


Fledgling

by runawaygypsy



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), Tilda Swinton - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dark, Death, F/M, Gothic, Smut (maybe), Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 51,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Eve have settled in a chateau in the South of France after having been on the run. Adam finds a young woman whom he brings home and turns. This is her story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is going to be multi-chapter, but I'm not entirely sure where this one is going, so bear with me as I write it...

Paysha awoke on the cold hard ground, curled into a foetal position, her body naked and entirely curled in on itself, lying in a puddle of her own excrement. The events of the evening before were hazy, her mind feeling like she'd downed a few too many shots of tequila. She groaned and the sound echoed off the walls of the empty room. As her eyes came into focus, she rolled away from the puddle and looked around. Though it was dark enough in its own right, she imagined that there had to be some source of light, perhaps sunlight seeping through a window or from under a door, because she could see around her, little details that, in her haze, seemed much more than their usual insignificance. A shiver ran down her spine and she was covered in goosebumps and she sat up, looking around for something, anything to cover her up. When she moved, her entire body screamed. She felt every muscle, every sinew howl at her for the movement and she let out a painful groan. Her stomach was in knots and she wrapped her arm around it, hoping it would help staunch the hunger that grew there, but it seemed of no use. She tried to stand, but she felt as coordinated as a newborn calf, her legs wobbling, her center of gravity changed somehow. She managed to make it halfway before falling to her knees, certainly bruising them, not really caring, before crawling to the wall. When she reached it, she sat up against it, leaning her head back and sighing in desperation. 

As she closed her eyes, she tried to remember what had brought her to this end. There were machinations that she had run into some deranged serial killer who had drugged her and brought her here to die and, though that seemed a likely scenario, had that really been the case, she was certain she would have been killed already and thrown like a rag doll into some mass burial pit on an abandoned property. She tried to dismiss that idea, relegating it to the imaginings of her own mind, one that had watched too many horror movies. Her head started throbbing and she brought her hands up, running them through the tangles of her raven black hair to relieve some of the pressure. She could only remember being in the club and seeing that man, how his eyes drilled into her with such intensity. She had left to walk home shortly after escaping his gaze and, as she tottered down the cobblestones, had encountered him again. That much she had remembered. And that's when the memories evaporated. 

There was a rustle and a door opened at the opposite end of the room. It was lit up only slightly more by a torch and the flicker of the dull light from the hallway outside. “Ah, you're awake,” came a gentle voice. A woman approached, tall, thin, delicate and seeming like she was made entirely of light, that the illumination in the room came not from the torch that she held, but emanated from herself. “How are you feeling, my dear?” Her voice was gentle, soft, and she seemed genuinely concerned.

“Please,” was all Paysha could say and it came out like a croak, dry and crackly. “Help.”

The woman let out a delighted chuckle as she reached down and grasped Paysha by her forearms, hoisting her up with strength it seemed like she should not possess. “Come with me, child,” she said in a motherly voice. “Let's get you fed and find you some clothing. I'm sure there's plenty of it in this old relic.” She helped maneuver Paysha out of the room and up some ancient stone steps. 

It felt like they were in a castle and that she was emerging from some medieval dungeon. “Where are we?” Paysha asked weakly.

“Oh, I believe we're in an old winery in the South of France,” the woman answered. “I couldn't tell you for certain, we've been on the lam for far too long.” She said it so matter-of-fact, her voice belying the fact that she was entirely exhausted from moving around. “I don't think we've met yet, by the way. I'm Eve. It was Adam that found you.”

Paysha couldn't help but giggle at the Biblical references. “For real?” she asked in her stupor.

“Yes,” Eve smiled, “For real, though it really wasn't meant that way, it just happened. You really can't help who you're going to fall in love with, let alone spend eternity following.” 

They reached the top of the stairs and emerged into a grand parlour, it's walls papered in heavy red damask that was torn slightly at the seams and were faded, with the exception of the places where grand paintings and artwork must have been. The wood work and the balustrade of the main staircase was intricately carved and would have glowed golden in the light had it not been covered by a heavy sheen of dust. There were worn carpets on the floor, all intricately woven, though their years showed in the frays and faded colors. The draperies were made of heavy red velvet, dusty, but still thick and luxurious as they were pulled over the windows. Eve guided her up the stairs and into a long hallway laden with doors carved in the same motifs as the woodwork in the parlor. It was through the closest one of these that Eve brought her. 

“Eve,” came an impatient huff as Paysha was pulled inside. “Have a little decency for the child.” His voice was sullen, deep, dark. When Paysha's eyes flicked to him, she knew it was the man from the club. She suddenly remembered her nudity, making an effort to cover herself up with her arms and cowering against the golden robes that adorned Eve.

Eve scowled. “Adam,” she said, “I thought you were going to be tinkering with all your gadgets, not up here sulking.” She reached behind the door and grabbed a thick,blue, velvety robe and draped it over Paysha's shivering form. “Better?” she whispered. Paysha nodded, but continued cowering behind her.

“What gadgets?” Adam asked in exasperation as he flopped into an armchair. “We're in the middle of fucking nowhere with nothing that resembles electrical anything. How am I supposed to tinker with that?”

“Didn't you find anything when we were in the city last night?” Eve approached him and clucked her tongue. “I thought you'd said...”

“I found HER,” he interrupted. “I found food.” His mood seemed to darken until Eve reached out and caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her. “And there may be some things in the car that I'd forgotten about.”

Smiling softly, Eve purred, “There, darling, see?” 

Paysha sat down on the end of the bed, still using Eve as a shield. She wasn't sure what she thought of Adam and was afraid of him still, knowing he was the one that brought her here. A shiver ran down her spine and it made her let out a frightened squeak.

Eve turned to her. “You're not afraid are you?” she asked, her cloud blue eyes full of concern.

Paysha nodded. “I don't know what's happened.” 

Eve sat down next to her on the bed. “Adam, would you please get our dear something to drink?”

Adam rolled his eyes and groaned. “Alright, but it was your idea to turn her.”

“We're not in the dark ages, you know,” Eve shot back. “This is the twenty-first century. I for one wouldn't feel comfortable killing someone. I couldn't justify it.” She raised her eyebrows at Adam as he stood from his chair. “Would you be so kind, my lord?”

Adam trudged out of the room mumbling about zombies and O negative and Eve turned to Paysha. “How silly of me,” she exclaimed. “I've not even asked you your name. What is it, child?”

“Paysha,” she answered. “My name is Paysha. Please, why am I here?”

Eve gave her a motherly smile. “Well, Paysha, that is a lovely name,” she said. “So unusual, especially in this area. Where are you from?”

“I've been studying fashion in Paris, I'm from America.” Paysha got the distinct impression that Eve was hiding something from her, or at least skirting the issue. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Not at all, darling,” Eve replied. “Your questions will be answered in due time.” She glanced up at the door. “Ah! Adam is here with the refreshments.”

Paysha watched intently as Adam set down three small glasses on top of the dressing table and poured a red liquid into them from a decanter. He handed one to Eve, then one to her, which she took gingerly, still convinced the man would just as soon do away with her. “Thank you,” she managed to say, though it came out in no more than a whisper. 

Adam grabbed the last glass for himself. “Don't feel the need to wait for me,” he said as he sat back down in his chair.

Eve looked expectantly at Paysha. “Feel free to imbibe, my dear.” She motioned towards Paysha's glass.

“What is this?” Paysha asked. “You're not trying to poison me, are you?”

“Not in the least,” Adam laughed. “Think of it as hair o' the dog.” At least he seemed amused, rather than sullen, finally. He brought his own glass to his lips and tipped it back, his head as well, against the back of the chair as well.

Satisfied that she was safe, at least for the moment, Paysha followed suit. She brought her own glass to her lips and sniffed. The drink was oddly metallic smelling and reminded her of something, but she couldn't remember exactly what. She tipped it into her mouth, the liquid thick and viscous as it spilled out onto her tongue and tasted coppery, but delicious. It ran down her throat and she began to feel warm and alive, all of her nerve endings awakening to a euphoria she had never felt before. She closed her eyes and fell back against the mattress as she emptied the glass. The hunger that had balled itself up in the pit of her stomach dissipated, replaced by a warmth that emanated to her extremities. Her tongue felt the need to explore her mouth for any forgotten pools of the drink that may have escaped and found something else entirely. Her canines had grown, stretched. “Fangs?” she whispered to herself. “I've never had fangs before.”

“You've never been a vampire before,” Adam replied from the other side of the room. 

Paysha sat up and glared at him. “How... what?” she stumbled. “Vampire?”

Eve scooted next to her and embraced her. “Yes,” she replied softly. “Welcome to the family.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next night that Paysha awoke, she was in a plush bed, covered in down-filled blankets and her head rested on puffy pillows. Her head hurt. She wasn't sure if she had remembered the events of the previous evening correctly. From what she could recall, she saw the visage of a tall, pale man, with long dark hair and crystalline eyes as well as a woman, his opposite, tall as well, long hair the color of sunbleached wheat, the same eyes, preternatural. They seemed like opposite sides of the same coin, yin and yang, light and dark. 

She wasn't as sore as she had been the night before and there remained only a slight pinch of hunger as she rolled over and sat up. She was clothed in a red gown, its vibrancy offsetting the jet of her hair as it curled over her shoulder and cascaded over one breast. Stretching, she could feel every sinew in her body move with appreciation. Though the room was dark, lit only by a single candle in a sconce on the wall, she could see each and every inch of the room in great detail. The comforter on the bed was a midnight blue brocade, interlaced with rich golds, the curtains on the four-poster bed every bit as opulent, their tapestries mirroring the delicate patterns. The draperies that covered the window were a deep, dusty blue, thick enough, she could tell, to block out any and all light from outside. She set her feet down on the deep pile of a Turkish rug and her toes sunk into it's plushness. Padding to the window, she held the drape open just slightly and caught the last purple hues as the sun went over the horizon in the distance. It was dark enough here that she could see the stars in multitudes as they came out of hiding. It was breathtaking and she felt a shiver run down her spine. 

Somewhere in the house, she heard a noise, what could have been a scream, untraceable as it came from deep in the bowels of the building. Her ears also attuned to voices, which she assumed were coming from the neighboring room. Theirs. She couldn't make out any of the words, only heard the mumbling cadences of his low voice and her higher voice as they carried through the walls.

Deciding to investigate, she padded across the bare wood floor and grabbed a silk robe that hung from a hook near the door. It didn't occur to her that she should be cold, she only felt like being covered, the robe being that one extra layer of protection, from what, she didn't know. 

Her door opened easily enough, sliding across the floor with a slight hiss, its hinges creaking, waking up from years of non-use. She tiptoed from her room, listening for their voices to see which direction she should walk. She followed them to the right, sure that each door would be the one she needed to step through, grossly disappointed to find that each one she opened was nothing but musty furniture held together by dust and cobwebs. Their voices had seemed close by and their lack of proximity was frustrating. Finally, she called out, “Hello? Where are you?” It felt like she was calling to a big empty house.

“In here, Dear,” came Eve's reply. “We've taken to the study. Down the stairs to your left.”

She was confused. If they were downstairs, how did she hear them so well. Following Eve's direction, she turned around and walked to the end of the hallway, stopping at the top of the grand staircase. She remembered this from the night before, though it had been such a blur that she had not noticed the delicate stained glass that stood at the top of it. A careful depiction of The Garden of Eden. “How fitting,” she thought as she studied it. There was no light that came through the glass, it having been boarded up years before by presumably whomever had left the house. She guessed that they'd had every intention of returning to it, or selling it for great profit. 

“Eve?” she called again as she descended the stairs. “You said to the left?”

“Yes,” Eve answered, “Just past the empty pedestal.”

Paysha got to the landing and turned left, spying a small marble column in an alcove upon which a bust of some sort must have stood but had long since vanished. There was a door on the other side, closed but with light leaking around it from some source of illumination inside. It was through this door she went, tiptoeing carefully as she pushed it open. “Hello,” she said quietly as she entered the room.

Eve was sitting on a settee. Adam was lying on it, his head in her lap. Both were wearing nothing but robes, hers a pale blue silk, his a more masculine green and black. “Please, come in,” Eve invited, waving her hands towards a chair opposite them. “You know, you're welcome anywhere here,” she said, her voice taking on a motherly tone. “You are one of us now.”

Adam sat up. “Except my music room,” he grumbled. “After last time, I am the only one allowed in there.”

Patting his hand, Eve agreed, “Yes, Darling, your music room.” As Paysha passed, she leaned closer and whispered, “He's very sensitive about his music.” 

Paysha nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.” She sat down on the chair and leaned back, attempting to make herself comfortable and failing miserably. She nearly wished that Adam would do the gentlemanly thing and move so she could sit on the settee with Eve, but she realized that she wouldn't have been comfortable with that either.

“Have you slept well?” Eve asked as Adam leaned closer to her, his arm draped lazily over her shoulders. She didn't seem to mind.

“I did,” Paysha answered. “It's a lovely room.”

Eve smiled. “That it is. I would have picked that room myself, except Adam had already settled in the other one.”

“Couldn't you have just changed?” Paysha began to get curious.

Eve shook her head. “It's not all that simple. Especially with him.” She hiked her thumb at Adam. “Once he's settled somewhere, it's hard to get him to move.” She was alluding to more than just their present house, so much more. “Come here, child,” she said, patting the spot on the settee next to her that had been vacated by Adam's long legs. “Or, if you'd prefer, we can scoot down.”

“Please,” Paysha smiled nervously. She was beginning to like Eve, but still wary of Adam. He was, after all, the reason she was in her current predicament. She stood as Eve and Adam made room for her. 

The settee was more comfortable than the chair and she sunk into it, its velvet upholstery welcoming her tired body. “Thank you,” she said, “That chair was not meant to be set in for any length of time.”

Eve laughed and her cadence rang through the room. “This is where we start to get an inkling of your abilities, my dear,” Eve said.

“What do you mean?” Paysha was beginning to think that she was going to be lost again, herself part of an entirely different conversation from those she was talking with. “Abilities?”

Adam snorted. “I hope she doesn't have the abilities your sister has.”

“Hush,” Eve shot at him, dropping her hand in the air. “Ava is an entirely different sort of monster.”

“Monster is the key word, there,” Adam shot back as he rolled his eyes. When Eve gave him a disapproving glance from the corner of her eye, he sighed, “Alright, let's get on with this then.”

Eve turned back to Paysha. “For each of us, when we are born into this, we have a special, innate ability carried with us from our mortal life that is enhanced. Mine is telemetry.” She set her hand upon the hem of the gown that Paysha wore, closed her eyes and continued. “For instance, I can hold the fabric of your gown in my hands and I can tell you with absolute certainty that it was made in Italy in 1918.” She opened her eyes and dropped the gown. “Adam is a prodigy. He can play anything, any instrument, any style of music.” She took Payha's hand in her own. “Now, let's see...” She closed her eyes once again.

Paysha felt the need to close her eyes as well, perhaps subconsciously thinking that they would be kindred spirits. What she saw in place of her own thoughts were Eve's, her memories, her wishes and dreams, everything. “Oh, Eve,” she said as she saw the tragedies that had befallen her in her human life. “I had no idea.”

Eve withdrew from her like she was hot metal, her skin scathing. “You are a seer,” she said as Paysha opened her eyes. “You can see into others, their deepest innermost thoughts and desires.” 

Opening her own eyes, her mind a blur of Eve's thoughts as well as her own, she shuddered. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn't mean to see any of that.”

“What did you see?” Adam asked, his brows furrowed. “What was it?” He was curious. There was very little he knew of Eve before they'd met, only brief glimpses of her past that she told him about. She was much older than he, that much he knew, having been a vampire some 200 years prior to that fateful night. What he had managed to fill in was that she had been a Druid, her people having been the main population of the Germanic homelands, practicing their religion in the ways of the old gods. She'd let slip that her maker was of Roman descent, a man of high military rank who was among the first to raid their villages. He'd taken her and turned her. That was everything Adam knew. 

“I don't know if Eve would like me to say,” Paysha answered quietly. “It's a bit personal.”

Shaking her head, Eve leaned into Adam. “I wouldn't worry about it, Darling,” she said softly, “It's in the past, what's done is done and there is no changing it. Besides, you've known me far longer than I was ever human.”

“I think you're making it up,” he snarled. “Try me.” He held his arm up, the muscles in it flexing as he extended it to Paysha. “Here.”

Paysha grasped his arm and closed her eyes again, this time her thoughts all his. “I see you as a young boy,” she said. “Spoiled, regal, a young Lord.”

“Yes, yes,” Adam agreed, his voice tinged with annoyance. “This we all know.”

Clearing her throat, Paysha continued. “You were in love with a peasant girl?”

Adam grunted, shooting an uncomfortable glance at Eve. She smiled when he raised his eyebrow at her.

“Ah, now I see,” Paysha said, “Your father was against the union, feeling like it was below your station to want to marry someone of such low birthright.” She could see Adam in his youth as though she were there with him. She described the scene of Adam and his beloved running away to a cottage in the hills, one that happened to also be a hideout for miscreants. He was made to watch as his beloved was violated, drawn and quartered by the men, and then he, himself stabbed and left to die in the hut as the robbers took everything they owned and escaped. It was there that Eve had found him. Much too late for the girl, but just in time to save Adam. He had been just as handsome then and the years had made him only more regal. “I'm sorry for your losses, Adam.” Paysha whispered as she let go of his arm.

Adam let it drop into Eve's lap, stunned as he was by Paysha's accurate recount of the day he and Eve had met. “So she does have it,” he mumbled. 

Opening her eyes, Paysha gazed at the two of them. “So, what am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.

“Anything you like,” Eve answered. “However, I feel that you should use it to your advantage. Since you can see things like this, you might also be able to tell when a mortal has blood poisoning, as well as who would be deserving of death.”

“So we can kill them?” She squirmed a bit at the thought of killing anyone.

Adam chuckled as Eve explained, “No, my dear, we don't kill anyone. Usually, we bleed them, heal the wound and let them get along on their merry way. Unless we turn them, like you.”

“Why doesn't anyone tell?” Paysha asked.

Eve shook her head. “We glamour them,” she answered. “That is an ability every one of us has. The ability to remove the recent memories of anyone we meet, thus we are relegated to the realm of possible dream.”


	3. Chapter 3

By Paysha's third night, she was accustomed to the rhythm of things as set forth by the two she now considered her creators, her mentors. She'd been an astute pupil as Eve taught her how to gently drain blood from a donor, her name for the mortals that they chose to drink from, and as Adam taught her how to glamour someone. Despite his initial abrasiveness, he'd shown that he really did have a soft side and that it was usually brought about by a gentle nudge from Eve. They worshiped each other. These evenings were often accompanied by a serenade by Adam as he tooled around on one of the few instruments that he'd been able to procure while they resided at the chateau or by Eve reading from some exotic classic text that she had found in one of the many dusty, unused rooms. Paysha absorbed it all like a sponge, feeling more cultured than she ever had during her education at university.

On this third night, she was thrown for a loop as she descended the stairs into silence. The study was empty, the sconces on the walls cold, never having been lit. She checked their room and it was vacant as well and a full search of the house revealed that she was alone. She wondered where they were and she hungered, her insides beginning to turn as she thought of the small amount of blood she'd been allowed the previous evening. Paysha had no idea where the supply was kept, Adam having been carefully protective of it, not wanting it to be drained quickly. Thus it was rationed. She could understand, given what they had been through, but was still disappointed when her senses led her not to the location of the supply but simply an empty decanter that had been discarded in the kitchen. She opened it and tried in vain to relieve it of the very last drops that clung to its insides, only to be let down when she realized that it had dried like that. Exasperated, she decided upon finding some appropriate attire and venturing outside. 

Digging through the drawers of the chest in her room revealed nothing more than a variety of flowing robes, not appropriate for the current weather, and nothing more. She decided to try some of the other rooms, hoping there would be something that wasn't musty and moth-eaten. Her search turned up a woolen cape and some leather slippers, which she slid on eagerly. 

Wrapping the cape tightly around her, she opened the front door and delved into the velvet night, surprised that her creators would leave her alone and leave the chateau unsecured. She stopped and listened after she had closed the door again, listening to the winds as they swept through the trees of the forest she found herself in. She could hear the rustle of nocturnal animals as they went about their business, and could even hear the sound of the soil as it was pushed aside below her feet by a burrowing critter. While she thrilled at this newfound sensitivity, it frightened her to know that she would never again experience the complete silence she had known when she was human. 

As she made her way slowly on the barely-visible path that led from the chateau, Paysha became aware of a thrumming noise that overlayed the sounds of the world she was hearing. It was low enough that none of the creatures she encountered seemed to notice it, but, as she progressed, it became more and more pronounced. It became all-encompassing, its sound filling her mind and making the hunger she felt even sharper. It rattled her enough that she could have sworn that she heard voices, could hear thoughts that weren't hers. 

There was a small rise in the path and, as she crested upon it, she saw into a small thicket, it's brambled walls illuminated by the flickering embers of a small fire. “I say we enjoy ourselves,” she heard a man say. She was unable to see his face, but she realized that she was seeing his thoughts and they were menacing. In her mind's eye, she saw the face of a young woman, bound to a tree trunk, clothing ripped and bloodied, as the man watched her. He was a predator, she his unwilling prey. Paysha also felt the woman's fear, her disgust at her captor, her will to live, despite everything she had been through.

Paysha stole into the thicket, the dark gray of her cape melding with the shadows as she hid behind the thorny bushes that surrounded them. She could see the woman clearly now, her golden hair shining with the flicker of the flames despite its dishevelment. The man was on her left, his form hidden by the makeshift tent he had constructed. “How would you like to taste this steel?” he growled at the woman.

“Please no,” she responded, Paysha could hear the helplessness in her voice. “I've had enough already,” she whimpered as he approached. 

He passed the fire and his shadow was thrown across the perimeter, falling over Paysha. The woman could see her eyes widen as she noticed her own presence. Taking the cape away from her face, Paysha held up a single finger against her lips and bade her silent. The woman nodded slightly, her motion remaining unseen by the man.

He approached the woman, a dagger in his hand, already bloody but sharp. He slid the blade under the remains of the woman's clothing and sliced through it, letting the fabric fall from her bare flesh and onto the ground. Holding the knife against her breast, he let it slice, leaving a trail of red in its wake. “I'm sure you'd love to keep these beauties intact,” he sneered before leaning his head down and licking her breast.

The woman's breath caught in her throat and she seemed unable to scream. She could do nothing to ward off her attacker except squirm. Her movement incurred his wrath and he brought the blade once again to her flesh, slicing where the welt had been and chuckling darkly as her blood began to drip from the wound.

Paysha had never been squeamish, never turned off by the sight of blood. Here, it made her stomach churn, not in revulsion, but in hunger. A delicious smell hung in heavy in the crisp night air and she realized it was the coppery smell of the woman's blood as it wafted to her on the gentle breeze. She licked her lips and felt the telltale points of her canines as they emerged, sharp, waiting. A pain rolled through her, filling her with a desire she had never before known. Bloodlust had claimed her.

For all of Adam and Eve's teachings, she had never imagined a situation like this. They had woefully unprepared her to face anything like she was now faced with. Following her gut instincts, she stole behind the man, silently and with abject stealth. Her eyes remained on the woman, bidding her silence, as, in a flash, she grabbed the knife from the man. 

He was dumbfounded, turning in amazement to meet her riveting eyes. Adam had taught her well. The man was mesmerized, dazed by her glamour, and dropped to his knees, his gaze glassy and turned towards the fire. He let out a moan as he collapsed, his body thudding against the hard ground.

The woman seemed as entranced as he was, watching Paysha move with intrigued eyes as she knelt down next to him and rolled him on his side. She leaned in and inhaled, smelling the richness of his blood as it thrummed through his veins. Paysha touched the delicate flesh on the side of his neck and his entire history flashed through her mind. It left no doubt that he was a scoundrel in every sense of the word. She felt no remorse over what she was intending to be his fate. Dipping her head lower, she could nearly taste his nectar. The man groaned again as she grasped the mop of hair on the top of his head and jerked it backwards, revealing the vein on the side of his neck, its pulsing with his fear, coursing with his blood. “This will teach you to victimize women,” she snarled as she dove for that vein, piercing his skin with her fangs like his flesh were tissue paper. With the first drop of blood that hit her tongue she had latched on, letting the wound open and allowing his heart to pump the liquid into her mouth, its fury sped up by his fear. She was elated, her body responding as though she was drinking pure adrenaline. She lapped up his life force until he gurgled and coughed, a spray of red spewing from his mouth as his body convulsed in the throes of his death. Sensing his demise, Paysha pulled away, her need sated.

“I won't hurt you,” Paysha said as she stood. She was warm now, her skin transformed from marblesque to tender and rosy. She turned to the woman and smiled, her gesture made grotesque by the fangs that protruded and the blood that dripped from the corners of her reddened lips. “I won't hurt you,” she repeated.

The woman had fear in her eyes, so much more than she had reflected in the presence of her assailant. Her breasts heaved as her breath came out, hard, hanging like a mist in the cool of the night. Goosebumps peppered her skin and Paysha knew they were not from the cold. “Please,” the woman whimpered. “Please.”

Paysha picked up the man's dagger and examined it curiously. She approached the woman, wary f her shaking, and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She could see the woman, carefree, running through a field as a young girl. Then again as her current age, in a pub, much like Paysha had been the night Adam had taken her, flirting with a young man, then taken by him to the alley behind where they kissed and groped, until the assailant had found them, killed her lover and taken her by force himself. “You poor, poor girl,” Paysha said. She was sympathetic of the woman's plight. “Do not fear, I've saved you,” Paysha said, gesturing to the corpse that laid at their feet. “I'll get you down from that tree.” She used the dagger to cut the ropes, first from where they vined around the tree trunk, tied in expert knots, then slicing them where they bound the woman at her wrists and ankles.

“Thank you,” the woman said quietly as she fell against Paysha. “I was afraid he would kill me.” Her accent was more prominent, thick with a Spanish dialect.

“Where are you from?” Paysha asked as she helped her sit down on one of the logs that was next to the fire, took off her cloak and covered the woman's bare shoulders with it. 

“Seville,” the woman answered. “My name is Maria.” 

Paysha introduced herself and, as she watched the woman's apprehensive shiver disappear with the addition of the cape and the fire, realized that she didn't feel the cold at all. She reached out to the fire and waved her fingers across one of the flames. She felt nothing, no heat, no burn. “Curious,” she said, withdrawing her hand. She glanced at the woman to find her equally as enthralled. She'd had every intention of glamouring the woman, leaving her in the forest to be found by hunters or villagers, but she couldn't. Had she the ability, or the knowledge, she would have turned Maria, thinking she would make a welcome companion, but, in her few days as a vampire, neither Adam nor Eve had shared that information with her. “Maria, I....” she began to speak when she noticed movement from the other side of the thicket. There was a rustle, something that Maria didn't hear because she didn't react to it at all, a noise that sent a shiver down Paysha's spine.

“Paysha,” came Adam's sharp voice, commanding her attention. 

In an instant, he stood between Paysha and Maria, his eyes riveted on Maria, his voice soothing her. “You will return to the village and remember nothing,” he cooed. “These frocks you wear, relics from a masquerade in which you were attending when you lost your way home. You'll remember nothing of this evening.”

Maria's eyes were glassy, her lips moving slowly to say, “Yes.”

Eve emerged into the thicket and took her place next to Adam, but she faced Paysha. “You've done well, my child,” she smiled. “You've taken the criminal and not the innocent.”

Paysha looked at Eve in confusion. “Was this meant to be?” she asked. “Did you set this up?”

“As a test,” Eve replied. “Adam and I needed to see you put your true talents to work, to discern whom to dispose of and whom should be left. You passed marvelously.”

“And what will become of Maria?” Paysha asked. She knew she should have been concerned with the corpse of the man, but she was beyond caring. She was more concerned with Maria.

“She'll be returned to her family, unharmed,” Adam answered. “She'll be just fine, for a zombie.”

“You seem disappointed in that,” Eve observed as Paysha's face fell. “Perhaps you were hoping we would turn her?”

Nodding, Paysha answered, “Well, yes, I was hoping for a companion... I mean, you have Adam and I feel so alone.” She cast a wistful glance towards Maria.

“Ah,” Eve smiled, “I see.” She patted Paysha's shoulder. “Alas, not everyone is strong enough to withstand being turned. While Maria may make an excellent companion, she is too weak to turn.” Placing a delicate hand under Paysha's chin, she asked, “You do understand?”

Paysha nodded. “I do.” 

She watched as Adam removed the cape from Maria and helped her dress in a package of clothing he had procured from the chateau and brought with him. As soon as he was done, he sent Maria on the road into the forest, instructing her how to reach the closest village. As he turned to face Eve and Paysha, he snuffed out the fire. “Are we ready?” he asked.

Eve offered him her hand and bid Paysha to rise. Paysha grasped Eve's other hand. “Let's,” Eve said.


	4. Chapter 4

Paysha was falling, her arms flailing as she tried to grasp at the fabric that seemed to float around her. It was a million gossamer curtains of crimson billowing in the breeze she generated. When she finally grabbed hold of one, her hand went right through it, it's weave transforming into a torrent of blood, coursing from some unknown ducts in the walls that surrounded her. She woke with a start, gasping for air as she felt something close around her throat. As soon as her eyes snapped open, she realized she was alone, that the rope around her neck merely the bed sheet and it was her own hand winding it about. She pulled it off, reviling it as though it were a living thing sent to kill her, to devour her. 

As soon as she caught her breath, she stole a peek through the velvet curtains that surrounded her bed and found the room was dark, save for the candle in the sconce by the door. She climbed from her bed and gingerly nudged open the slit of the heavy velvet drapes on the window and realized it was already night. 

A quick glance at the dressing table, and she found that new attire had been laid out for her, a pair of black pants, a green silk tunic with a black leather belt. She changed into these, smiling as she did happy that they fit her perfectly. 

“Paysha!” A voice called for her as she admired herself in the mirror. “Paysha!” It was Eve.

“Be there in a minute!” Paysha answered, her own voice carrying more than she had anticipated, echoing through her chamber like a bullet ricocheting off the walls. 

She hurried downstairs and found Eve in the library, perusing a mildewy volume. Without looking up from her book Eve observed, “I see you've found the clothing I left for you.” 

Paysha nodded, “Yes, they're beautiful, thank you.” 

When Eve said no more, she took the liberty of looking around the room, taking in each and every detail. The library was huge, taking up two stories at the end of the house, its shelves climbing the walls, reachable only by one of the tall, rolling ladders that sat leaned against them. The decrepit upper shelves had long since been cleared of their books, time having left behind only piles of sodden paper and rotted leather as leaks had permeated the roof, but the lower shelves were still filled with viable tomes. There were classics, names she recognized as Shakespeare and Voltaire, there were more modern books as well, though those were nearly a century old now, as well. As she reached out to touch the spine of one novel, she could nearly imagine what the library had looked like when the manor was new. She saw the colors of leather, a veritable rainbow on the stacks. She could nearly smell the newness of the volumes as they were, rather than the musty, dusty that emanated from them now. Her fingers brushed against pages and she watched in the lamplight as particles of parchment flaked away. 

The furnishings in the room were in nearly as bad of shape as the books, their velvet and tapestry damaged by ages of sunlight streaming through the tall windows between the shelves, and, in places, the upholstery was completely gone, have worn away by moisture or chewed away by vermin. Paysha sat down on one of the better pieces, a burgundy Queen Anne chair that had been wedged beneath a table, its velvet seat protected only by the lacquered wood over it. She waited, fascinated by Eve's delicate touch and the speed at which she perused her book of choice before discarding it lovingly on another shelf and delving for another.

They had been there for what seemed like ages before Paysha realized what seemed amiss. “Where's Adam?” she asked softly when Eve was between readings.

Eve looked at her, her cool blue eyes seeming far away. “What was that?” she asked. “I was thinking of an old friend.”

“Adam,” Paysha repeated, “Where is he?”

Smiling gently, Eve replied, “He's gone to see if he can find something to add to our supply. Perhaps a country doctor who would willingly part with a good batch of O negative.” She set the book she held down on the table next to her. “It's been so long since we've been able to depend on anyone other than ourselves,” she sighed.

Paysha glanced at the cover of the book she had set down. “Did you know William Shakespeare?” she asked timidly.

Eve rolled her eyes. “Yes, the scoundrel, but. More importantly, I knew the great Christopher Marlowe,” she nodded. “He was really the brilliance behind those texts, you know?” She cocked her eyebrow at Paysha but didn't wait for a response. “I miss that man.”

Paysha had heard the rumors that Marlowe had actually written the plays attributed to William Shakespeare, but she had never really believed them. 

“Yes,” smiled Eve, “Or at least he did exist until a few months ago.” When she saw the alarmed look on Paysha's face, she continued. “Marlowe was a rather sickly man, I'm afraid, much too frail to have been turned, but that's neither here nor there. He was one of us centuries before I was made.”

Paysha's eyes widened. “That explains how he was able to write in such detail about what he did,” she gasped.

“Exactly.” Eve pulled another book from the shelf and flipped through the pages. When she found what she wanted, she held it open so Paysha could see. “This is the best sketch I've seen of him,” she said. “Marlowe was always wary of getting his image captured. Even moreso when the internet began to take root. He was afraid that his secret would be revealed. I always told him he should let the cat out of the bag, but he persisted in his charade. It was only after his death that I was given permission to break the news to the literary world. Of course, by that time, it was too late.”

“How did he die?” Paysha asked. 

“Bad blood,” Eve answered. “He'd had an arrangement with a lovely doctor in Tangier to get clean blood and everything was wonderful until there was no more good French doctor.”

Paysha watched Eve with a great curiosity. By looks, Eve should have been cruel and cold and, Paysha knew, in certain circumstances she could be, but at the thought of her lost friend, Eve's eyes glistened with tears and she waxed melancholy. While she did have the ability to separate herself to the analytical, the practical, she'd shown that she also had great propensity to be nurturing and caring. “I'm sorry,” was all Paysha could whisper.

Eve took a deep breath and let it out. “No matter, now,” she said as she composed herself once again, “What's done is done. I've lost a great many people, as has Adam, and we're none the worse for it.” She fixed her eyes on Paysha. “Now, girl, what I called you here for was to continue your tutoring.”

“Tutoring,” Paysha repeated. “Why tutoring?”

Scowling, Eve explained, “Because we can't just send you out into the world without knowing how to survive. Had Adam and myself not had proper instruction, why, we'd be long gone. Ashes centuries ago.” Taking a sharp breath, she finished, “And I do not wish that on you, for you are, for all intents and purposes, our daughter.”

As a child, Paysha had an inkling that she was destined for something special, though joining the realm of the undead was not a thought that had ever crossed her mind. “Had anyone ever chosen to die?” she asked, her curiosity piqued by Eve's diatribe. “Any of us?” The moment she asked it, she regretted it. Eve's face fell, her eyes revealing a melancholy that was wistful at best.

“Occasionally, so,” Eve replied. “And this is something that stays within the walls of this room. My own dear Adam was painfully suicidal not so very long ago. I have seen others succumb to the darkness, feeling that they have fallen into some sort of twisted depravity, like they, themselves were sacrificial lambs, and hurl themselves into the abyss.”

“I'm sorry,” Paysha grimaced, “I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories.”

Eve shook her head. “It is perfectly fine, my child,” she answered. “We all have a curiosity and you, with your abilities, have it even more so. In any case, this is a conversation we've been needing to have as part and par of your instruction. Better now than when it's too late.”

Paysha nodded. “I have a question.”

“Then by all means, ask it,” Eve sighed. “Never be afraid to ask.”

“How would one go about killing oneself? Or another?” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

Eve set the book in her hand down on the table, seeming suddenly aware that she was still holding it. “Well,” she began, “As I've said before, we can die due to blood poisoning, as my dear Marlowe, but there are many different ways we can die. Immortal, yes we are, but not in the sense that we can rise from the dead any more than we already have. Mankind has taken to adapting their mythology to suit their methods, however, not all of those may work.”

Immediately, scenes from popular vampire movies began to run through Paysha's head. “Garlic?”

Eve answered with a chuckle. “No, we're no more allergic to garlic than we are to dust. The same is with silver. I believe that particular rumor was begun in the 15th century by someone who wanted to sell their metal. It set off a delicious clamor to buy. There were even riots in some cities.”

“Stakes?” 

“That, unfortunately, is true of anyone, however it does need to be a particular kind of stake to kill one of our kind.” Eve reached to the nearest stack of books and pulled another volume. In a flash, she had thumbed through the delicate pages and found what she was looking for. “These are the hardwoods,” she pointed out. “A stake made from any of these will kill us. In fact, Adam's method of choice had been a bullet made from a hardwood. That will do as well as any stake.”

Paysha sighed. “I would hazard a guess that the sun is not just a myth.” She glanced towards the windows, wishing that she would see sun stream through them, knowing it was entirely impossible because, not only was it the dead of night, but the heavy velvet drapes, though slightly worn in places, were still thick enough that no light would bleed through.

Pursing her lips, Eve replied, “Sadly, yes, the sun is our enemy. Our skin is so delicate that it burns us. Fire is also a way of killing us, in fact, several of our kind were burned at the stake during the Inquisition.” She began to pick up the books she had left around and return them to their rightful place among the shelves. “That was the last great era of our kind, right before that shit storm,” she mused. “I was lucky to have escaped it, but barely.”

Paysha watched her, the deliberate movements, how fluid she seemed to be as she floated around the library. Even the motions that should have been stilted and clunky took on a poetry all their own. “How much older than Adam are you?” Paysha finally asked.

Turning to her and smiling, Eve answered, “Centuries, though it often feels like eons. As you know, I was of the Druidic tribes. I was already hundreds of years old by the time I met Adam. He was a beautiful youth, borne of the Romans, titled, privileged, spoiled. He was the epitome of aristocracy. By the time I met him, he'd lost his desire to commune with people, or the Zombies, as he's wont to call them. He'd become a hermit, living in the highest tower in the city, visiting the streets below only when necessary. I happened upon him as he was considering a succulent little thing as she carried buckets of water.” She paused and smiled thoughtfully. “He did always have an eye for beauty.” Casting a glance at Paysha, she added, “You, my dear, are no exception.” 

Paysha blushed. “I'm not beautiful,” she said under her breath.

“Nonsense,” Eve retorted. “Had I a mirror, I would show you how perfectly gorgeous you are.”

Eager to change the subject, Paysha asked, “How did you meet him?”

Eve opened her mouth to speak when there was a clatter in the corridor outside the library. She held her index finger over her lips and motioned for Paysha to maintain her silence. Paysha nodded, clamping her lips shut as she watched Eve wind her way to the door. She was about to peek around the corner when Adam emerged through it. He was clad in hospital scrubs and holding an ancient physician's bag. “I've got the goods,” he grinned as he set the bag down near his feet. “There's a wonderful doctor not far from here who is more than willing to work with us in acquiring our sustenance.” 

With a squeal unlike any Paysha had ever heard from her, Eve jumped and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Now we're talking, Darling,” she laughed. “Back out of the dark ages once again!”

He chortled as he leaned over and let her down. “Like you didn't enjoy the Dark Ages,” he teased.

Eve smacked him playfully on the ass and sneered, “Cheeky.” 

“So, we don't need to feed on anyone for a while?” Paysha asked apprehensively.

Adam's eyes snapped to her, forgetting for a moment that she was theirs, his pupils dilating and his lids narrowing. His hunger had turned him into the perfect predator, unaware of anything outside of an immediate need. “Well, let's move this party and partake,” Eve suggested, hoping to diffuse him. “Adam, I was just about to tell our daughter about how you and I met.” She grasped the front of his shirt with one hand, the bag on the floor with the other and began to pull him from the room.

His eyes brightened, a sudden recognition in them as Eve pulled him. Smiling, he held out his arm. “Please join us, Paysha,” he invited.

Paysha regarded him apprehensively, wary of joining him for fear of another outburst until Eve nodded her head cordially. She followed them, gasping Adam's elbow only as he turned away from her, to the parlor. She and Eve sat patiently on the settee while Adam retrieved some small snifter glasses from the cabinet on the opposite wall. He brought them and set them down on a table in front of the women, then opened the physician's bag, pulled a decanter from it and carefully filled each glass about half way. He picked the glass closest to himself and sat down next to Eve. Paysha and Eve picked up their glasses at the same time, holding them in the air to toast with Adam. “To finding new friends,” Adam nodded before he closed his eyes, placed the rim of the snifter to his lips and drank from it deeply. Eve did the same and Paysha was enthralled. She hadn't seen anything quite like it before, how they seemed to thoroughly enjoy each drop the moment it reached their tongues, that they tipped their heads back, their faces showing pure, near orgasmic bliss as they bared their fangs. 

When they were done, she emulated them, closing her eyes, her nose picking up the metallic smell of the blood. As she touched the glass to her lips, her skin tingled with anticipation and her senses became even more heightened. She could hear the viscosity of the liquid she was about to ingest, hear it sloshing slightly as she tipped the cup back. Her tongue darted out, its tip catching the edge, tasting the copper as the blood began to pour over it. She became aware that she was breathing heavily, and each rise and fall of her chest felt like life. As the liquid began to trickle down her throat, she did as Adam and Eve had, tipping her head back, savoring it. Her body was encompassed by the feeling that she was flying. Her weightlessness was joined by an incomparable joy, a heat that grew in her core and spread out among her limbs like roots to the branches of a tree. Every nerve ending, every vein and vessel, artery and capillary were overcome by a fire that grew, warming her to her very being. She felt more alive now than she ever had in her life. This experience had been far different than her encounter with the thief. There was no adrenaline in this blood, just pure, unadulterated ecstasy and she was its slave.

When she opened her eyes again, they were watching her expectantly. “That was marvelous,” she grinned, her teeth stained crimson and making her look more grotesque than beautiful. “No wonder you prefer this.”

“It is to fine wine what water is to cheap beer,” Adam chuckled, smiling at his own cleverness.

Eve cleared her throat. “I believe we were discussing how Adam and I met,” she said.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Paysha, “Please!”

“Well, as I was telling you,” Eve began, “I met Adam when he was eyeing a particularly succulent looking maiden.” She glanced over at Adam. “Would you say this was in, what, the 1500s?”

“1509,” he answered. “And I was not eyeing her. I was simply watching for the moment when I could feed on her without distraction.”

Eve laughed, “Well, in my book, that would be eyeing her.” She turned back to Paysha. “I was in the same village, on the outskirts of Wales, just before the Welsh submitted to Henry VII. Just traveling through, to be sure. There was a young man I had been following who apparently had the same designs on the young woman Adam had been tracking, though with much less deadly consequences, when I got a whiff of something, someone that was not human. The couple met each other at the well and they were entirely unaware that they were being watched. My eyes followed from them to the opposite side of the square where I saw movement that they did not notice. Seeing an opportunity, I made my way behind the spectre, as you know, we can be quite quick in our movement, barely a flash in a mortal's eyes, and tapped him on the shoulder. These beautiful eyes turned their gaze on me and he was not surprised at all. He had seen me. 'I was hoping to catch you,' he whispered, 'before we both went in.' I nodded and the two of us sprang from our hiding spot to pounce on the lovely couple, thereby draining them of their life force and satisfying ourselves.”

“You tell it like it's a story in one of your prized novels,” Adam grumbled. “Eve, she is a romantic,” he explained. “I whispered nothing of the sort.”

“You did, too,” she chided. “You and I both know what was said that night. Continuing along, the locals found us before we were done, an oversight that we both revel in, for it brought us together, and revile because we were chased from the town that very evening and had to take refuge in a decrepit crypt in a neighboring town.”

Paysha was on the edge of her seat. “Did you fall in love that night?” she asked.

Adam and Eve glanced sidelong at each other. “Yes,” they said in tandem. 

“I never wanted to hunt with anyone else after that,” Eve continued. “Adam was the dark to my light, the yin to my yang. We are both two halves of the same whole.”

With a shrug, Adam added, “I would not be alive without her.”


	5. Chapter 5

Her first unsettling moment happened some weeks later when the sun began to rise and a sliver of it sliced through the draperies in the room where they sat, hitting Paysha's hand. Her flesh began to sizzle and a searing pain tore through her as she screamed. Never had she felt such a pain, and she hoped to never again. She withdrew from the beam as quickly as she could, but it wasn't fast enough to minimize the damage. Eve was immediately at her side, cooing over her like a mother hen, enticing her to drink some more of the vial they had opened while Adam rolled his eyes at the scene. "That's not going to kill her," he groaned. "I've had the same thing happen to me." He held up the back of one of his hands. "Look, no scars."

Eve scowled at him with a "Tsk." "Adam, you're centuries older," she scolded, "You are much more resilient than she." 

"Well," he huffed, "Sun's up and I'm turning in." He stood from his seat and walked out of the parlor, grumbling to himself.

Eve sighed and turned to Paysha. "You'll have to excuse him," she said, "He gets a bit grumpy when he's gotten tired. Last night took a lot out of him."

Paysha winced as Eve cleaned her wound and watched as, miraculously, the tender flesh began to mend itself before her eyes. "That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.

"Added benefit of immortality," Eve nodded. "Now, remember what I told you?"

"Yes." Paysha yawned and stretched her hands over her head. "And I believe it is time for me to turn in as well." She rose at the same time Eve did and they walked together through the brightening house, avoiding any sun patches that dappled the floors. They gave each other a hug as they parted, each to her respective room. 

Paysha's room was lovely dark and cool and she snuggled under the quilt, content in her little cocoon, waiting for the drowse of sleep to overtake her, but it eluded her. She tossed and turned, but her mind was filled with question upon question and thirsting for knowledge in which she knew only one place would possess. Superstition-wise, she knew about the history of their kind, then the small amount Eve had told her, but she longed for more. Instead of keeping to her room and trying to force the issue, Paysha stole down to the library.

The library's large windows illuminated the room with so much sunlight that Paysha had to tiptoe around the perimeter, careful not to let any part of herself in the sunbeams. She had expected a fair amount of light, but it was so intense to her newly-sensitive eyes that she found that she needed to squint and nearly shut her lids in order to see where she was going. Her head began to throb, both with fatigue and because of the light and she felt she might soon regret her decision, but she stuck fast to it, averting her eyes from the sunlight and concentrating on the spines of the books until she found what she was looking for, or at least what she thought she was looking for. 

Like the others, it was a huge, dusty volume, the words "Early European History" barely legible in gold gilt. She blew on it as she pulled it off the shelf and watched as plumes of ages of dust puffed into a sunbeam, danced like glitter in the light, and then fell to the ground, mixing in with every other bit of dust. She was mesmerized by the beauty in just this simple thing, distracted from her task until a mouse ran squeaking over her bare toes, startling her back to the present. Hefting the volume to the darkest corner of the library, she sat down and began to turn the pages, carefully grasping the thin paper slowly to avoid tearing the delicate parchment. She barely needed to skim the text and it was emblazoned in her mind and she stopped in amazement. She'd seen Eve do the same the previous night and had marveled at her ability, never realizing that her own might match it. It took mere minutes for her to absorb the knowledge in the volume, yet her thirst for information was not yet quenched. She returned that book to the shelf it had sat on and grabbed another, then another, each one becoming ingrained in her memory.

As Paysha perused yet another volume, she was interrupted by an odd noise. She glanced in the direction of the sound and found Eve standing there, her presence even more ethereal as she was illuminated from behind by the sunlight. "My dear, why are you not sleeping?" she asked.

"I couldn't," Paysha answered. "There are too many questions I have and a wealth of knowledge here."

"You've ages to study it all," Eve shook her head. "I don't know why you're in such a rush." She let out an amused chuckle. "Now, back to bed with you and get some rest!"

With a sigh, Paysha followed her back through the shadows of the room and back upstairs. She went into her room, only pretending to close the door, waiting and listening for Eve to be safely in her own room before stealing back out again. Pressing her ear to Adam and Eve's door, she could hear Adam moaning about sleep again and Eve coddling him, assuring him that all was well. When no more sounds came from their room, she went back downstairs and into the library.

Paysha was in the library until the shadows grew long and the dusky reds of sunset began to color the faded tapestries like the illumination of a stained glass window. The little things that had startled her at the beginning of the day no longer mattered, in fact she welcomed the visits from the mice in the house and the sound of their scurrying about became more of a comfort. She knew she had Adam and Eve, but now, she felt more alone than ever. Since Eve had mentioned the presence of others of their sort in the world, Paysha found herself wondering if she would ever meet them, or would she be the continuous third-wheel. As she contemplated, she heard a soft knock at the door. Knowing that Adam and Eve would most likely have no visitors, she padded into the foyer and peeked through the peep-hole on the door. It was a man, close to her age, she surmised, dark-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful and looking incredibly lost. In a moment of pure courage, she swung open the heavy oak door, hoping not to be flooded with sunlight and burnt to ashes. "Can I help you?" she asked as she opened her eyes. Seeing him in full nearly knocked her breathless.

His smile was shy, his eyes averted. "I'm so sorry to bother you," he replied, his voice low, smooth, velvet, and a bit shaky. "You see, my car broke down a couple miles away and..." As he looked at Paysha, he stopped, mid-sentence, his mouth agape.

"Cat got your tongue?" she giggled.

Shaking his head, he answered, "No. Ummm..." He looked past her into the house. "I don't suppose you've got a phone?"

"Sorry, no." Paysha fought the urge to grab his hand and pull him into the house. She wanted to feel his skin, to read him, to get to know him, but she could also smell the heat rising from his flesh, the blood coursing through his veins and, while she was not incredibly hungry from drinking the night before, he smelled delicious and she wasn't sure she could control herself if she did taste him. "It's getting dark," she finally said, ending the awkward silence. "You're welcome to stay here for the night, but I must warn you, you'll need to stay in your room and do not open the door no matter what noises you hear and when the sun comes up, you have to leave."

"Alright," he agreed, following her into the chateau. "This place has seen better days, hasn't it?" he chuckled. His vice echoes off the corners of the vastness, rattling the dust and cobwebs.

Paysha turned and looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide with alarm, and shushed him. "Please, silence while we're walking through is imperative. I don't want to wake anyone."

"Sorry," he whispered as they continued up the stairs. "I wasn't sure there would be anyone else here."

She grabbed a lit candle from a sconce at the very end of the hallway, opened a door and descended a smaller, dustier staircase. "I have to apologize," she said softly once he had shut the door behind him, "All we've got ready are old servants' quarters."

"Anything is fine," he replied. "Just putting me up for the night is more than I could have asked for."

At the bottom of the staircase, a narrow hallway veered to the right. Paysha followed this and opened a door at the very end of it. "This is your room," she announced, handing him the candle.

The man stepped over the threshold and glanced around. "Thank you," he smiled as he looked back at her. "I don't suppose you've got any food? I'm a bit hungry."

Paysha shook her head. She nearly blurted, "We've got no need for it," but stopped herself, instead telling him, "I'm sorry, tomorrow is the day we'll visit the market." 

He looked at her queerly. "Have you got a car, then?" 

"Not here," she answered, her mind racing to cover her misstep. "There's an uncle who will come by very early in the morning to pick up my Grandmother and take her."

"Might he take me?" His eyes bore into her, as though he could see the truth of who she really was. Even though she knew it was impossible, she couldn't help but feel like she couldn't breathe.

Shaking her head, she mumbled, "No, I've already told you too much." Paysha moved to leave the room, reminding him, "Now remember, you promised, don't open your door."

The man reached out and grabbed her hand in an effort to get her attention and in an instant, his entire life was scrolling before her eyes. She could see his birth, infancy, childhood, adolescence, everything at once, like transparencies overlayed one on top of the other. His name was Stephen, he was a year older than she, he had a younger brother, he was kind to everyone he knew... She pulled her hand away as though she'd been burned, afraid to see any more, her eyes relaying the confusion she felt as she sucked in a sharp breath. He looked like she had slapped him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he gushed, turning his eyes away from her. "You don't like to be touched, do you? You're one of those people." It wasn't said in spite, more a concern for a situation he'd made himself a part of too many times.

"No, I'm not," she defended. "It's just..." she took a deep breath, nearly losing it as his eyes flicked expectantly up to hers. "Never mind." She'd said too much, let on too much already. He shouldn't even have been let in the house, but she'd felt sorry for him. Spinning around, she slammed the door and ran back out to the main part of the house, leaving him alone in the darkness with nothing but the single candle-light.

The darkness had fallen by the time she got to her room. Adam and Eve were not yet stirring, so she opened her door, went inside and threw herself down on the bed, falling into sleep as easily as she'd wanted to when the day began. Her dreams intermingled with the noises of the house, the creaks and groans from the cooling temperatures outside, the sounds of Adam and Eve emerging from their room. She heard her door sweep open and Eve's sweet voice call, "Paysha, dear, it's time to wake up."

"I'm so sleepy," Paysha complained. She thought she heard Adam chuckle, but she couldn't be sure. "Let me sleep."

She felt the telltale flutter of Eve's fingers as they brushed against her bare feet. "This is why you should have slept while the sun was up," Eve gently roused. "We've got much to do tonight."

Paysha uncovered her face. "Like what?"

"Well, for one, we're going to the village to get some more O negative," Adam interjected from the doorway. "You need to learn how to spot the good suppliers." When Paysha looked up at him, he was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and scowling. 

"For when I'm on my own, Adam?" she asked. Not that she didn't want to stay with them, she knew she would feel the weight of loneliness even more once they were gone.

"Exactly," he answered. "What's the use in propagating the species when we'd just be sending you out amongst the zombies to your own doom?" 

Eve turned to give him the evil eye. "Adam," she scolded, "That's much too fatalistic a view, I'm sure she'd get along just fine."

"I'm not sorry," he responded. "The girl's going to get killed if we don't show her this. It would be a case of natural selection. A weakling weeded out."

"I'm not weak," Paysha said curtly. "I'm not weak at all." She expected Adam to ask her for proof, prepared to defend herself, but realized that in each instance of strength, both of them had been there with her. 

Backing towards the door, Eve put an end to the conversation. "It's neither here nor there," she huffed in frustration. "You will be coming with us. We'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."


	6. Chapter 6

As they descended the stairs, Adam's face scrunched into a scowl and his eyes darted suspiciously into the darkness. "There's been a zombie here," he whispered.

"Well, there hasn't been one for many years," Eve answered. "I'm surprised it took you this long to smell it."

"No, it's recent," he growled. "Very recent. Can't you smell it?" He fixed his eyes on Eve as she closed hers and inhaled deeply. 

Her eyes opened with alarm. "I do smell it, now." She grasped Paysha by the arm. "Can you smell the change in the air?" she asked.

Paysha, of course, didn't, her senses not signaling to her what she knew already to be there, so she lied, "I do, very slightly." She hoped it wouldn't prompt an outright search of the house, fearing that Stephen would be found, that he would be a party to their hunger. "Perhaps it was someone only curious about this place, an explorer," she added, "Since it is only down here."

Eve agreed. "Paysha has a point. Surely, it wasn't someone who wished us harm, or we would have been attacked where we laid." She released Paysha's arm and circled it around Adam. "Come, then, my love. Let's speak no more of this, instead secure ourselves a bit better and get on with our plans." She stepped down to the landing and tugged on his arm, beckoning him to come with her.

"Alright," he groused, "But I'm making sure we're the only ones to enter or leave this place." He pointed at the front door. "We won't be using that route to enter the chateau any longer. I believe that the door through the basement will prove to be our safest route, since it's hidden by the brush and there are no paths that lead to it." Paysha could see the logistics as they formed in his mind and was startled that she had such a connection with him. "Also," he added, I think it would be wise of us to close off the parts of the building that we don't ever use. The servants' quarters, for instance."

The last part of his plan made Paysha shudder. She hoped that Adam's plan wouldn't find complete realization before Stephen had a chance to leave. Trying to mask her concern with fright, she asked, "How soon are you planning on all this happening?"

His attention shot to her. "Tonight," he replied. "The sooner the better."

"What about the blood?" Paysha asked.

Eve sighed. "We have enough to make it through tomorrow," she said, "I'm afraid our security is a bit more important." Her words supported Adam, her expression didn't as she glanced up the stairs at Paysha. "You best begin by finding all you can to barricade things. Tables, solid doors, nails, any thing like that."

Paysha nodded, thankful that she was allowed to move about the house on her own. "I'm beginning with the basement," she announced as she moved towards the back of the house. Waiting until she was sure Adam and Eve were both out of earshot, she entered the kitchen, hopeful there might be some sort of food that would be edible to a mortal. She managed to find a small paper bag with an apple in it and a wheel of old cheese still encased in wax, aged but not moldy. It'll have to do, she thought as she continued down the stairs to where Stephen was.

She hadn't remembered the servants' quarters being quite so dusty when she'd brought him down there, but perhaps it was only a case of her senses being sharper. His door was still shut and she could make out the sound of soft snoring coming from within. Gently, she turned the handle, forgetting she had instructed him to lock it. She rapped on the wood with the back of her hand, hoping it would be loud enough to rouse him. There was no answer. She knocked again, this time slightly louder and said, "Stephen, open up, please, it's me." 

There was a stirring inside the room and the snoring stopped. The sound of bare feet padding across the rough wood floor approached the door. "You told me not to open the door," he mumbled sleepily. 

"I've brought you some food," she replied.

The lock clicked as he twisted it and he pulled the door open. "I thought you said you had none," he said, his eyes narrowing.

Paysha shrugged. "I managed to find some," she answered as she shoved the food into his arms. "I need you to gather your things and get out. It's not safe for you here any longer," she commanded.

Stephen looked at her curiously. "Why?"

"Never mind that," she huffed. "You need to leave." She watched as he fumbled in the dark, the candle long gone, for the rest of his clothes and his shoes. When he finally had everything, he returned to the door. "Follow me, quietly," she instructed, her voice near a whisper. She saw him nod, his movement even apparent to her sensitive eyes in the pitch darkness. He grasped her arm and she could hear his feet shuffle through the dust as she led him through the bowels of the chateau. They wove through a labyrinth of rooms and corridors, emerging outside from an unused doorway into the crisp, cool midnight air. She used a piece of wood that had fallen off the house at some point in time to clear away some of the creeping vines that had tangled over their escape route. "Follow this straight out to the road," she said as she pointed at an overgrown cobblestone path.

He nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I hope everything is alright."

"Don't worry," she sighed. "It will be. I hope." Her face was betrayed by the worry in her eyes.

Stephen turned to face her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her cold cheek. Paysha was taken by surprise. Unable to react quickly enough, she instead savored it, this human contact. She could feel the warmth of his skin against hers and smell the hot, coppery rush of his blood as it flowed through his veins. Thoughts of sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of his neck filled her head as his scent intoxicated her. "You're freezing," he commented. "I should let you get back inside before you catch your death."

Or you catch yours, she couldn't help but think. "Thank you," she said, squirming from his arms. "You'd best go while you can, though." He loosened his embrace, the sudden realization of his actions dawning on him. With a sheepish grin, he let go and stepped away from her. Perhaps it was the hunger that he saw reflected in her eyes, or it could have been the urgency with which she had shuffled him out of the house, but he began walking quickly, picking up speed to distance himself from the house. When he reached the edge of the forest and seemed like an ant on Paysha's horizon, she saw him lift a hand and wave.

Paysha didn't wait to see him disappear. She picked up the piece of wood his embrace had knocked out of her hand and went back into the house, making sure to secure the door as she shut it. She poked around in some of the other rooms, finally finding a legless table top that they could use as a barricade. Just a she began hauling the thick piece of wood up the servants' stairs, she heard Eve calling for her. She set it on the floor and yelled, "Ill be there in a minute!" Despite her increased strength, the table was still a formidable weight and, by the time she found the area where Adam had begun stacking things to build the barricades with, she was feeling faint.

As she set the table down with a thud, Adam's eyes fixed on her. He narrowed them, like he was trying to discern something about her, something different. "You smell like the zombie," he growled. "Did you let someone in this house?" His pupils dilated, turning his eyes nearly red with refracted light, making him seem almost feral. "Did you?" he yelled.

Eve watched Paysha queerly, regarding her differently as well, but her mothering instinct took over and she positioned herself between Adam and Paysha, her hand pressed against Adam's chest. "Now, Darling," she purred at him, "Surely you don't think our fledgling, our child has let something untoward in, do you?" Her attention swung between Paysha and Adam, settling on him, imploring him silently.

"I found some clothing in one of the servants' rooms," Paysha lied. "I thought I would dispose of them. They must have belonged to... to whoever it was." She was careful not to identify Stephen. "Maybe that's what you smell?"

Within milliseconds, Adam had her pinned up against the wall, his face inches from hers, snarling. "What kind of fool do you take me for?" 

Paysha began to tremble. "Adam," she gasped, "I..."

Before she could get any more out, Eve was at her defense, pulling on Adam's shoulders, bracing her foot against the wall for leverage. "Adam!" she screamed, "She's our child!" Since she was older and stronger, there was no doubt that Eve could have pulled him off Paysha completely, but she would have injured him in the process, so she did what she could without damaging either of them. "Let her go," she implored.

"This is my one warning," he hissed. "If I find that any zombie has been in my house without my express permission and that you have had anything to do with it, I will end you." He let go of her and backed away, his anger still encompassing him like a shroud. 

Eve whispered something in his ear, shooting a surreptitious glance in Paysha's direction, before releasing her grip on his shirt and letting him leave. She approached Paysha, her eyes reflecting only caring. "Now, my daughter," she smiled, "Please, tell me the truth. I promise, I will not be angry." Her caring concern made Paysha relax.

"There was a man here," Paysha whispered, hoping that Adam was nowhere within earshot. "He said his car broke down and he wanted to borrow our phone. I did let him in, but only for the night because I didn't want anything to happen to him." Tears formed in her eyes and she felt the empty sobs escape her lips. "Please don't let him hurt me."

"Sweet girl," Eve chuckled. "He won't. I promise you that. You have such a big heart and I realize you just wanted to help." She wrapped her arm around Paysha's shoulders. "Let's, for the future, not let any more people in. Alright?" 

Paysha leaned into her. She could tell Eve was telling the truth. Adam would do nothing, despite his threats, for this infraction, at least. "I won't," she replied. "But what if Stephen comes back?"

Eve raised her eyebrow. "Stephen is is?" When Paysha nodded, she smiled. "And how much did you gather about this young man?"

With a sigh, Paysha answered, "Enough to make him interesting." She knew that Eve would understand. "He's a fighter, if that's what you're wondering. I doubt he'd be a willing donor."

Eve turned and motioned for her to follow. The tension in the house had dissipated to a general malcontent that existed mostly around the eternally-annoyed Adam as they joined him in hoisting the found wood against the front door and nailed it to the frame, sealing the entrance off. He worked silently, occasionally letting out a frustrated grunt when something didn't want to cooperate. The women did their best to keep things more lighthearted, laughing about Adam's perturbations amongst themselves and telling each other silly jokes to make the labor and the time passing seem more bearable.

Once their work was done in the foyer, they progressed to the lower level of the house, blocking off the entrance from the back of the house to the servants' quarters. Though it still smelled quite mortal, Adam refrained from commenting, instead keeping his thoughts to himself, preferring to only voice his distaste in the state of civilization and servantry. They blocked off the door from which Paysha had let Stephen go, closing themselves into the house with only one exit available. That door existed in the lowest, farthest reaches of the chateau, hidden from view on the outside even more than the one they'd barricaded. Paysha didn't even know where the single entrance was inside the house and when she asked to be shown, was rebuffed by Adam. "You'll see it when you need it," he'd said, sounding more exhausted than angry. As they reached the top of the stairs and emerged into the main level, he added, "Besides, sun is coming up. We'd best get to sleep."

"I'll show you tonight," Eve smiled.

Paysha followed them upstairs, retiring to her room and flopping on the bed, falling into the deep sleep of the dead.


	7. Chapter 7

Paysha was startled awake by a hand suddenly clasped over her mouth. She shrieked, the sound muffled and shushed by the voice of an unseen entity. "You're going to wake someone," came a gruff voice, one that she thought she recognized, but couldn't be sure. Reaching up, she grasped the hand, her cool skin tingling with the sensation of the warm flesh as she tried to pull it from her mouth. "Please," the voice implored, "Stand up, come with me, I'll explain when we're safe." She could only nod and comply, scooting from the bed as the other hand of her assailant guided her. Her senses failed her, unable to read him, she knew only that this was a man, that he was mortal from the scent of him, that he was nearly as strong as she, though being a fledgling and not yet fully developed in her strengths, it didn't mean much. He pressed against her backside, holding her silent, and guided her downstairs. Her eyes narrowed with the sight of the bright sunlight that flooded through the draperies. She whimpered as he attempted to steer her through a sunbeam and jerked to the side with just enough force to avoid it. "None of that," he hissed in her ear. 

The man finally freed her when they arrived in the cool, cobwebbed confines of the basement. It was dark, save for the single bit of light that streamed in from a dusty window. "Thank you," she said as he shoved her away.

"It's not me you should thank," he answered as she turned around to look at him. He was huge, muscled, tall, with brown hair and dark eyes. There was a cut across his forehead, angry, red and scabbed but still fresh. He pointed to the corner closest to the door. "He's the reason I'm here."

She followed his direction, her eyes widening, pupils dilating as they adjusted to the murky darkness. "Stephen," she gasped. "Why did you come back?"

Stephen emerged from the shadows, approaching her, eyes full of concern. "You seemed so frightened the other evening," he answered. "I came to help you get away." He laid his hand on her arm. Immediate flashes of her last visit to the town with Adam and Eve coursed from him. He'd been there. He'd seen them. "And," he confirmed, "I saw you in the village with that couple. You looked so lost, like you had no choice to follow their instruction." 

Paysha wondered what else he'd seen and, more importantly how he'd seen. The three of them had resumed their scheduled plan of her extended training two nights after Stephen had visited and Adam had gone on his barricading rampage. They had ventured out, cautiously, because Adam still held some fear that the zombie who'd been in their chateau was nearby, just lying in wait for them to leave. He wasn't entirely wrong, though the man had not been especially eager to return to the house. 

The streets of the town were essentially abandoned, save for the presence of the occasional drunk who'd passed out near the local pubs and the handful of homeless who kept to skulking in the back alleys. It was none of these that they were concerning themselves with. Their need for pure sustenance led them away from the dregs of society and towards the scoundrels who made their living preying on the innocent, as well as those who could provide an exemplary supply of clean blood. There was a small medical clinic, urgent care, located on the furthest outskirts of the town that they visited first. "First," Adam instructed, "It is key to be inconspicuous. You must blend in, make it look like you belong in that environment. For a large medical institution, if you dress like a doctor, you will be able to move about nearly invisibly." He pulled a medical mask from his pocket and handed it to Paysha. "For a smaller clinic, like this one, you need only look like a patient."

She put on the mask. "Do I just walk in?" she asked.

He nodded. "Check in with reception to be seen. Cough and act believably sick. Make sure you give a pseudonym." He gave her some semblance of a smile as he sent her in, while Eve waited with him in the shadows.

Paysha was nervous, but she handled herself like a trooper, making her voice rough and scratchy, feigning illness as she got her fake name on the list. She said her name was Sandra Parve, which rolled off the tongue so much less easily than her own, but was the best she could think of on the spot. Taking a seat in the waiting room, she glanced around, taking in her surroundings. The lobby was brightly lit with buzzing fluorescent ceiling fixtures, but sterile, furnished only with black Naugahyde-covered chairs and a single plastic table covered in outdated magazines. There was no one else there, so she knew the wait would not be long at all. 

After ten minutes, a nurse called Paysha back. She attempted to take her vitals, but came to the conclusion that she'd had faulty equipment when she could find neither a pulse nor blood pressure. Once she called the doctor in, Paysha smiled. This was the moment she'd waited for. On par with Adam's instructions, she introduced herself with the same pseudonym. With her voice low and soft, she produced a roll of money and held it up. "I'm not really sick, doctor," she said. "I'd like to enter into a business arrangement with you and your staff."

The doctors in this region were typically poor and the enticement of so much money was often too much for them to resist, as was proven by this doctor. "What would you like to arrange?" she asked Paysha.

With a smile, Paysha answered, "I have a condition that requires constant transfusions, which I have a nurse to help me with, but I need a good supply of clean O negative, which seems a bit hard to come by on my own."

"There are strict regulations," the doctor agreed. She eyed the money in Paysha's hand hungrily. "And are you willing to pay that with each delivery?"

"More." Paysha could see her thoughts clearly. The good doctor was considering just what she could accomplish with such wealth and, while many people thought only of self-gain, she was envisioning a larger clinic, perhaps asking for help funding a hospital. "Imagine what you could do to help the community with this," Paysha enticed.

The doctor's eyes snapped to Paysha's. "I'll do it, Mademoiselle Parve," she said. She instructed the nurse to grab some casks of blood from the cooler in the corner of the exam room, then took it from her and packed it carefully in an insulated box meant for transport of human tissues. "Next time," she said to Paysha, "No need to play the patient. Knock on the back door and I'll happily get what you need."

"Thank you," Paysha smiled cordially before readjusting the mask over her mouth again. "I'll be sure to do that, Dr. Moreau." She left the exam room and exited back out the front door, nodding at the receptionist as she left.

Adam emerged from the shadows with Eve behind him. "Have you got the goods?" he asked.

Paysha handed the box to him. "I have," she answered, "As well as an agreement for procuring more."

Eve grinned, pleased. "See," she told Adam, "Our daughter has proven her mettle." 

He grimaced, unable to admit he was wrong. "She has in this instance, but there's more trials to come." He led them away from the clinic, back towards the square. "Now, you need to find someone on whom you can feed," he instructed Paysha. "Remember, you must not be seen, instead, you will need to lure them to the shadows. When you drink, do not kill them, we don't want to raise suspicions. Lull them into submission and use your senses to tell whether their blood is clean."

There wasn't long for her to wait, as the pubs began to close and people left, some of them milling around, talking, still enjoying each others' company. Paysha scanned the crowd, waiting for an opportune moment. She glanced back at Adam and Eve, motioning toward a man who leaned against a building, lighting a cigarette. Eve nodded and Paysha sauntered over to him. She struck up a conversation, even asking for a cigarette, which she pretended to smoke. The toxins made her nearly gag, but she held it together. Her hand stroked up and down his forearm and, while he saw it as a sign he would be lucky to bed her, she was reading him. He was not a nice man. There was a slew of women he'd left in his wake that had been taken advantage of, most unwillingly. He made his money by bilking the less fortunate in different scams. Paysha felt no remorse for what she was going to do to him.

Flirtation had never been her strong suit, but the man was inebriated enough that his defenses were down. She tugged gently at his shirt, suggesting that they move their party to somewhere more private and he followed her willingly. She smirked as she glanced down to witness his excitement at the prospect. Once they'd rounded the corner and tucked into the arched doorway of an old building, she kissed him, retching slightly at the taste of tobacco and whiskey with the undertone of vomit. She could smell his blood was clean, despite the toxins from the smoking and drinking. Those were minor concerns in the grand scheme of things. He pressed into her, cornering her as he fumbled with the hem of her shirt, roughly running his hands up to pinch and fondle her breasts. Though she needed to keep up the ruse to gain his complete compliance, she did not enjoy his touch and worked hard to restrain herself from squirming away from him. 

Once his kisses moved to her neck, she struck, grasping a handful of his hair and pulling his head back. "My turn," she whispered before sinking her teeth into his pockmarked flesh. His skin was like tissue paper to her, piercing easily and unleashing the flow of viscous liquid over her tongue and down her throat. She licked and lapped at him, hungrily taking in what he had to give. When she felt him begin to grow faint, she bit her own wrist and withdrew, dribbling a few drops of her own blood over the wound, healing it instantly, finishing it off by licking away any leftover drops. Pushing him away from her, she laughed. "Thank you for the wonderful time, but I must be going. That will be fifty dollars, please."

He was stunned and dizzy. He had no memory of sex with her, but the sticky flaccidity in his trousers told him otherwise. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to her, not even bothering to count it. "Here," he said gruffly. "I don't feel so well."

"Thank you," Paysha said as she took the cash and escaped the enclave. 

Adam took the money from her when she returned to them. "Good girl," he said. "I'm impressed."

For all of Paysha's recall of the evening, this was the one time where she guessed Stephen had seen them. "What exactly do you think you are saving me from?" she asked.

"A life spent as a lady of the evening," Stephen replied. "They're forcing you into prostitution, aren't they?" His face was entirely serious, his eyes full of concern.

She shook her head. "Absolutely not," she denied. "Adam and Eve are patient and kind. They've adopted me into their family and I am grateful for the opportunities they've provided for me."

"And what are those," he scoffed, "A run-down estate and turning tricks on the street?" 

"It's not like that at all," she said. There was no way that she knew of to explain her situation without telling him everything. "I can't tell you anything more." She turned to leave and was grabbed by the larger man and pinned against the wall. Paysha screamed, surprised at her own voice as it echoed through the empty room, realizing nearly too late that there was no one that could hear her. 

As her consciousness began to fade, she heard a boom as the door to the room they were in flew open and broke into pieces as it smacked against the wall. In her haze, she saw Adam pull the man from her and hurl him against the far wall like a rag doll. Adam's hand briefly hit the beam of sunlight and bubbled, sizzling as he winced and pulled it back. 

Eve emerged from the darkness and slipped behind Stephen while he gawked at Adam's injury as it healed itself. She wrapped herself around him, cooing in his ear to stand still, but he didn't heed her, instead struggling to loosen her grip and dragging her towards the light. Eve's arm was hit and she hissed as she pulled herself away from him, a gut reaction to the pain. He looked at her incredulously. "What the hell are you?" he asked in horror.

Paysha couldn't stand the melee around her. She felt a kindred spirit in Stephen and she wanted to protect him from whatever Adam might do, even more so when Adam growled, "You're the zombie that was in my house."

Stephen shook his head and opened his mouth, but not a sound came out as Adam advanced on him. "No!" Paysha yelled as she threw herself between the two of them, her own backside flooded with sunlight in the process. She whimpered and collapsed at Stephen's feet in agony, her flesh scorched. 

The larger man righted himself and moved in towards them. He looked down at Paysha, then at Stephen. "Holy fuck," he exclaimed, "She's one of them!" He tried to grab Stephen by the shirt collar, but was stopped by Adam, who snapped his neck in one fluid motion.

Paysha saw Adam approach Stephen, but, in her suffering, the world blacked out, pitch black surrounding her as she fell.


	8. Chapter 8

"Ouch!" Paysha whined as Eve cleaned the burns on her back. "That stings!"

"Well, you wouldn't have to worry about the pain if you hadn't tried to sacrifice yourself for that... mortal," Eve responded, spitting the last word out like a bug on her tongue.

Paysha squirmed uncomfortably, her wounds beginning to itch as the healing process started to take effect. "Why do you and Adam hate them?" she asked as she rolled to her side, pulling the blanket around her as much as she could.

Eve pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "We don't necessarily hate them," she answered after considering things. 

"But you Adam calls them 'zombies' and you sound like talking about them leaves a bad taste in your mouth," Paysha interrupted.

"Tsk," Eve scowled. "You read the histories, you know what they do to creatures like us. Let me tell you, for as long as I've been on God's green Earth, my apathy towards humanity has not changed. Even when I was mortal, I disliked the people that surrounded me, save but a few. I've been ridiculed, threatened, nearly killed by them, and that was all before I was turned." She sighed. "I suppose, now, they fascinate me more than anything, with all their inventions and pithy arguments. I could never hate them, though. Without them, what's the point? I'd cease to survive."

"I can see your point," Paysha agreed, "but why does Adam hate them?" 

Eve opened her mouth to speak, but only got a breath out before Adam spoke over her as he entered the room. "I don't hate them as a whole," he explained as he crouched down next to Eve and leaned on her knees. "There are some specimens of humanity that possess superb intellect and exemplary possibilities..."

"His heroes," Eve whispered.

Adam narrowed his eyes and shot her a look of disdain. "I don't have heroes," he replied. Turning his attention back to Paysha, he continued. "As a species, humanity is tantamount to a herd of lemmings, hurtling themselves over the nearest cliff face because the one in front sets the pace. They don't even realize what they're doing to this planet. The water is going to shit, the soil is fucked, not to mention all the poisons they pollute themselves with. Do you wonder why it's important to teach you how to identify a good food source? It's because a good majority of the humans on this planet have diminished themselves with so many toxins that, were we to drink from them, we'd die, and it would be a final death." He stopped his diatribe long enough to wipe the tears of emotion from his eyes. "Some theorize that these plagues, these storms and such are Mother Nature's antibiotics as she attempts to rid herself of this illness."

"And you say you're not a romantic," Eve smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"I never said that," he answered, "I'm a realist, I'm pragmatic..."

"Then you are a romantic?" Eve was just toying with him, attempting to get him flustered and he knew it. He shook his head before grasping the hand she had rested on her lap and kissing the back of it. "How romantic of you," she purred.

Paysha liked to see them this way, they were the perfect couple. Everything they did for each other was done out of pure love. She wished she'd had parents like this in her human life. Instead, she'd grown up a latchkey kid, fending for herself when her mother worked one of her sporadic jobs or, more often than not, had taken up with some man who was only going to use her up and let her go. Her father had left the picture early on. Paysha's mother told her that she'd met him once, when she was five, but that was the one and only time he'd seen his daughter. All the other men in her life had been there for such a nominal time that their influence on her choice in men was nonexistent. She was so rapt watching Adam and Eve's interactions with each other that she nearly forgot about Stephen, until his face popped into her mind. "What happened with Stephen?" she asked softly.

"He's alive," if that's what you're wondering," Adam replied. "I can't say as much for his companion." He glared at Paysha. "You didn't let them into the house, did you?" His voice dropped, bordering on accusatory, but he was giving her the benefit of the doubt.

She shook her head and the motion was enough to send a bolt of pain through her healing back. "I didn't. I was asleep and the big goon pulled me from my bed. I thought I was going to die."

Eve looked confused. "You couldn't read him?"

"No," Paysha answered. "He was a void in space." She shrugged. "Why couldn't I read him?" Her questioning gaze shifted from Eve to Adam and back.

"Don't look at me," Adam scoffed. "Eve's the one with the bloody abilities."

"Have you ever had that happen to you?" Paysha asked her. "Have you had anything you couldn't read?"

Taking a deep breath, Eve responded with a nod. "Only once," she sighed. "It was an object forged by a neighboring clan, it belonged to their high priest, whom I met only once before I was turned. The object was found after his clan was slaughtered by Paulinus and given to me by my maker." 

"What was it?" Paysha's interest was piqued. She'd delved into the archives in the grand old library and found mention of the Menai Massacre, but didn't realize at the time that Eve had connections to it.

"A tiny obelisk made of quartz, chiseled and polished to perfection by some of the most skilled people at the time." Eve described the object reverently. "There was legend that the man was not of this world, that he'd appeared out of nowhere and the clan was assembled by him of rogues who'd found their way to the valley. I do know that not all of his people were of the same descent, for their looks were as varied as all the people of Earth. But this man, he was as red as they come, flaming hair, ruddy skin, temper to match. He was warrior enough that the Romans who slayed his kith and kin were only able to subdue him and imprison him. Legend holds that he is still there, in some long-buried prison-turned-tomb." She punctuated her story with a smirk of disbelief. "But, I'm not one to put much credence in legend."

Adam stood up, rubbing his upper thighs and gritting his teeth. "He could be of Demiurge descent," he suggested. When he glanced up to Eve and Paysha, they were waiting for him to continue, their faces masques of expectation and question. He stood the rest of the way up, standing akimbo, towering over them, rolling his eyes. "Don't tell me you've never read any Gnostic texts."

Paysha shrugged. "It was never a subject that interested me," she smirked.

"Adam has an affinity for religious texts," Eve explained. "I blame it on his era. It was such a time of discovery and spiritulism. I, on the other hand, have very little interest in the matter."

He crossed his arms. "The Demiurge was thought of as the fashioner of the material world," he began. "In Gnostoc texts, he is considered bad because they thought anything corporeal was evil. However, other religions thought of the Demiurge as a sentient being created by some other being for the purpose of building, for all intents and purposes, everything we see. To further this mythology, there are others that believe the Demiurge created others in his image, gave them a splash of humanity and allowed them full, unadulterated access to the human race, to reproduce and proliferate at will. My guess is that both the high priest and this... unfriendly... both have lineage that could be traced back to the Demiurge."

"If all that's true," Eve added.

"Stephen is not one," Paysha said quietly. "I could read him. Can I see him?"

Adam shook his head. "Not yet," he answered. "I'm not done with him yet."

"You're not going to kill him, are you?" The concern on Paysha's face was palpable. 

Eve touched her shoulder gingerly. "You care for the boy, do you?" 

When Paysha nodded solemnly, Adam bent down, his face inches from her. "And what would you do if I were to turn him?"

She shuddered, but it was due more to Adam's proximity and menacing tone than his actual threat. "Would you?" she asked, her voice coming out as barely a squeak. Thoughts raced through her mind. Her imagination ran wild with images of her and Stephen together, as Adam and Eve were.

Almost like he was reading her mind, Adam answered, "I could and that would make him your blood brother."

"What do you mean by that?" She was uncertain as to what he was implying.

Eve elaborated. "When you have a sibling joined to you by blood, you have a special bond." She saw Adam grimace out of the corner of her eye. "For example, my sister Ava and I can go years without communicating, but she always knows exactly where I am."

"Unfortunately," Adam snorted in disgust.

"We have that bond," Eve continued, shooting a glance of disapproval at Adam. "It's that shared blood."

"So," Paysha inquired, "If Stephen were to be my blood brother, then what? Would he be my companion?"

Adam shook his head. "More than likely you'd not be able to stand each other after a while."

Paysha frowned. "What's the use then? I'd rather have a companion. Like you said, after a while, I'll have to move along without you." She rolled onto her back, forgetting her injuries and winced as her skin pressed on the silken sheets, their fabric rubbing like sandpaper. "What if Eve turned him?"

"Are you so keen on having this young man turned?" Eve asked. "What if he were not strong enough? It might make him a monster."

There were texts Paysha had read in the library, stories of mortals turned by the undead and bastardized by the blood, twisted into something not quite human, not quite vampire. Of course, these, like the Demiurge, were all myths created by mankind, proliferated in the Dark Ages. "He's strong," she sniffled. "I know it."

Eve stood up from the bed. "Well, that's a debate for another day," she said. "You've got a good while to heal from those burns and until you are fully recovered, you'll not be leaving this bed." She stood next to Adam and looped her arm around his elbow. "Now, we'll discuss what's to be done with the boy while you recoup."

Paysha nodded as they left the room. Her ears strained to hear their conversation as they closed the door, but all she could hear was Adam's and the words "Demiurge," "Blood Supply," and "Trials."


	9. Chapter 9

Adam retired to the room he was keeping Stephen in, leaving Eve and Paysha upstairs. It was times like this when he channeled his beloved scientists, acting on behalf of his species to better it, possibly. Stephen had been knocked out with a swift uppercut after Paysha's collapse, rendering him unconscious long enough for Eve to collect Paysha and move her upstairs to heal and Adam to subdue him. Now, as Adam descended the stairs into the bowels of the servants' quarters, he was weighing his options. He knew that there was no way he could let Stephen go, lest the man reveal their presence, necessitating yet another change of residence. It had also become painfully clear that death was not an option, either, as Paysha had nearly given her own life in her concern for his welfare. 

Stephen's companion, the burly man who possessed unusual strength and was invisible to Paysha, was given to the forest, buried in a deep grave in a place beyond human abilities to reach, but not before he'd been drained completely. His blood now sat in vials in a cooler in the basement, not for consumption, but for research. Adam was convinced there would be a way to condense the elements from it that could lead him to understand the man's unusual abilities. He would finally be able to utilize the laboratory equipment he'd pilfered from an abandoned hospital when they passed through Madrid.

The door was locked even though Stephen was bound inside the room, tied expertly to the bare spring bed that had been left behind when the house was abandoned. As Adam unlocked and opened the door, he heard Stephen whimper, but it was a sound tinged more with fright than pain. The man had been gagged, but it didn't stop him from trying to talk. There was no light in the small enclave, to the human it was pitch dark, but Adam could see Stephen's figure as he squirmed against his bonds, his form coming in the shape of dim heat waves, an aura that rippled around his body. "Please," Adam said into the darkness, "Be not afraid." He reached out and pulled the gag from the man's mouth.

With a deep breath of appreciation, Stephen sighed, "Thanks."

Adam lit a candle in a sconce on the wall and turned his attention back to his subject. "My name is Adam," he introduced, his hand splayed reverently across his chest. "I must apologize for your present situation as, unfortunately, there is not much I can do at present to remedy it."

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Stephen groaned. "Could you untie me at least?"

"Not until I can be absolutely certain that you do not share traits with your late friend." Adam crouched down, allowing Stephen a better view of his face. "For that, I'll need a bit of your blood."

"Why?" Stephen seemed startled at the idea. "What are you people?"

Producing a needle from his shirt pocket, Adam chuckled darkly. "Not necessarily people," he answered as he grasped Adam's arm and held it tightly, his own long fingers acting as a tourniquet around the man's slender arm. "I need to compare your DNA to that of your friend. Are you aware he wasn't quite human?"

Stephen shook his head. "If he wasn't human, than what was he?"

Adam shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. My best guess is a descendant of an ancient being, but I won't know for certain until I've compared your blood with his."

"What's wrong with using your own?" Stephen asked, eliciting a frustrated eye roll from Adam.

Avoiding any other questions and conversation, Adam exited the room, slamming the door shut in the process. He didn't bother to lock it this time, as he also didn't bother with untying his prisoner. He didn't relish playing the role of captor, but he felt his hand was forced in the matter the moment the zombies had entered his domain. There really wasn't anywhere to go, once that happened. It was either death or imprisonment. 

The lab Adam had set up consisted of little more than a microscope, a centrifuge, a small cooler and an old computer which had been rigged to help decipher data. As a laboratory, it lacked in several essential functions, namely sterilization equipment, which Adam hoped to acquire at some point in the future. Shortly after he and Eve had arrived at the chateau, Adam had gone through the trouble of collecting what he needed for another atmospheric generator, which proved far more difficult in the middle of nowhere, but he'd succeeded in just two short weeks, building himself a contraption that sat just outside the basement window where the lab was. Unfortunately, the house itself was old enough that it lacked functional wiring, so it was the lab and only the lab that had electricity. He smiled to himself as he began collecting the needed equipment for his tests, imagining the reception his lab would have had if Mary Shelley had seen it. She may have thought him a modern day Victor Frankenstein. She wouldn't have been entirely wrong.

He began by transferring Stephen's blood into a test tube, with the exception of the last little bit, labeling it with a permanent marker as "S". The bit left in the syringe was added to a glass slide, covered with another and placed into the tray of the microscope. After he'd placed the test tube into the cooler, he pulled an already-prepared slide from the other man. He sat down on the beat-up rolling chair that sat by the table the microscope was set on and put his left eye to the eyepiece. It looked like any other slide of blood he'd seen, perhaps slightly more active because it was fresh.

Swapping Stephen's slide with that of his friend, Adam returned his attention to what was happening inside the microscope. Miraculously, despite the chilly temperatures in the cooler that, for all intents and purposes should have halted all cellular activity, there was still movement. It wasn't stunted, not even slowed. In fact, it moved every bit as quickly as Stephen's sample did. 

Adam sat up when he heard the patter of Eve's feet as she entered the room. "What are you up to, my Darling?" she asked as she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned her chin on the crown of his head. "Playing biologist?"

"It's fascinating," he replied, not taking his attention away from the eyepiece. "This blood is still living. For all purposes, it should appear dead." He sat up and scooted to the side. "Take a look for yourself."

"Amazing," Eve said as she looked into the microscope. "And this is the blood from the..."

"Suspected Demiurge," Adam finished her sentence with her. "Yes, now let me show you Stephen's." He pulled the current slide out and replaced it. 

"And this is the living blood?" she asked. "It's slower than the other. Why is that?"

"I'm not sure," Adam answered. "I hypothesize it's because of the lack of supernatural influences. Whatever that other man was, he was definitely not human."

Eve looked at him, her eyes contemplating something. "What would happen if you were to combine them?"

Adam nodded and stood up, grabbing both samples from the cooler and, using a clean needle and syringe for each, combined them on a third slide. The results were immediate and visible, even to their naked eyes. "Wow, this is... unexpected," he said as he watched the liquids whorl around each other, their cells combining, into what, they weren't sure. He handed it to Eve and watched as she put it into the tray.

She looked into the microscope, attention rapt by the events inside as they unfolded. "It looks like the stronger cells are absorbing the weaker ones," she observed. "I wonder what would happen if you added your own."

"Perhaps nothing," Adam shrugged. "It's worth a try." He pulled the slide from the machine and grabbed yet another clean slide from his supply. Using a razor blade, he halved the combined samples between the two slides. Rather than using the syringe on himself, he bit the tip of his finger and squeezed a drop onto the new slide, placing another on top and putting it back into the microscope. "What do you think will happen?" he asked as Eve looked in again.

"Well, not rightly anything at the moment," she observed. "Do you have a UV light?"

He shook his head. "Only the window," he answered.

"That'll do then." She picked up the microscope and carried it out of the room, Adam following behind as they entered the room with the window. "Cover me," she said.

Adam took his shirt off and threw it over her hands as she set the microscope down in the sunbeam. Once she was safely out of the way, he pinched the single shaded corner of fabric and pulled it away. Once they'd waited a few minutes, he used the shirt to pull the machine back into the darkness and carried it back to the lab. Eve looked inside once again. "Exactly what I thought," she said, satisfied.

She backed up and let him take a look. What he saw when he looked into the lens was a conglomeration of cells, larger than any he'd seen. "What am I looking at?" he asked.

Eve chuckled. "Evolution, my dear. Those cells absorbed yours and were not destroyed by the sunlight."

He looked up at her, eyebrows knit together. "Which means..."

"We may have found how to move in daylight."

"How will we know if it really works?" Adam asked. Inside, he knew the answer. He closed his eyes. "Will you turn him?"

Eve replied, "If that's what you wish." She waited for him to nod, the last bit of confirmation before she visited Stephen herself.

The candle inside Stephen's room was nearly spent when Eve entered. His eyes tracked her as she floated around the peripherals, wary of her presence and what it might mean. She could tell by the way he stared that he regarded her as more than a threat than he had Adam and reasoned it was due to her feral quality, the fact that she seemed other-worldly and wild. Without explanation to him, she knelt down at his side, grasped his hair and wrenched his head roughly to the side, sparing all decorum and piercing into him with razor-sharp fangs. His blood was such sweet nectar as it flowed over her tongue and she could feel his pulse as it forced the ebb and flow of him. When she began to feel his weakness, she pulled from him, bit her own wrist and held it to his mouth. "Drink," she cooed. 

Stephen cupped his lips around her wound and suckled on it, his tongue lapping at her, his strength increasing as he absorbed more of her substance. When she pulled herself from him, he struggled against the bonds and groaned as he tried to follow her.

Adam entered the room, a goblet in his hand. Eve untied Stephen's hands and let him sit up as Adam handed him the cup. "Drink," Adam instructed.

Hungrily, Stephen drained the entire glass and, glassy-eyed, laid back down until the rush he felt subsided. "What was in there?" he asked.

"Strength," Adam answered. "And now, we see if it worked." He untied Stephen's feet and helped him up, leading him out of the room. They went to the door and Adam opened it, shoving Stephen roughly outside, avoiding his own exposure to the sunlight.


	10. Chapter 10

Stephen was stunned and nearly blinded by the bright sunlight, a sensation that was almost immediately overshadowed by a searing pain that emanated from his midsection and tore through him, making him believe he was on a certain path to absolute destruction. He dropped to his knees and curled into a ball, hoping the muscle spasms would subside, only to be disappointed by the fact that they didn't. He rolled onto his stomach and retched, a black tar-like substance came up as he felt a wet warmth spread along his lower regions. Clapping his open hand against the door, he called out weakly, "Help," though he was certain no one could hear him. 

Adam and Eve heard from their position on the opposite side of the door. "It's only your mortal death," Adam called. "It'll pass in a moment." He refrained from telling the man that, once he'd fully turned, he faced near certain immolation from the sun he was currently bathed in. Unless, the experiment worked.

Within minutes, the sharp pains subsided and Stephen took a deep breath, feeling himself renewed and overcome with a certain sense of euphoria. He used the brambles to pull himself up and stood, leaning back against the rough door frame. He could have left, escaped the clutches of the beings inside, gone to the relative safety of the village and been done with it, but he was no longer frightened of them. Instead, he now held a certain kinship which, in its own way, gave way to a feeling of loyalty that burgeoned in his heart. Not that he could have gone very far. He was clothed only in the tattered remains of what he'd worn when he'd broken into the chateau in the first place, which was not the most formidable thing for the temperature shift as evening was approaching. Also, he was barefoot, a poor thing to be in an area surrounded by sharp thorns and roots that one could stumble over. He knew he was stuck, for whatever their twisted purpose for him was, he was stuck.

As the sun began to sink low on the horizon, the door opened. "You've survived," Adam said as he grabbed the back of Stephen's shirt collar. He smiled as he turned to Eve. "He survived." Adam pulled him through the doorway. 

Eve smiled and handed Stephen a bundle of clothing. "You'll want these," she said. "You can change in one of the empty rooms."

Stephen was stunned. He hadn't expected the warm reception he now got, given the cruel way he'd been treated previously. Following the couple blindly back into the house, he realized, as the door was shut behind him, sealing him in, his vision was perfect. There was no need for illumination in the low light and he could see their forms as they beckoned him up the service stairs into the servants' quarters. He ducked into one of the empty rooms and closed the door and quickly relieved himself of the soiled, tattered clothes, feeling a slight relief as he put on the brown, loose-fitting slacks and black t-shirt they'd given him. Once he opened the door, he followed them up to the main living area of the chateau. The glow from the lit candle sconces on the walls stung his sensitive eyes and they began to water. "What do you mean to do to me?" he finally asked. "I imagine that if you had wanted to kill me, you'd have been done with it already."

"You are a new breed," Adam replied. "We mean to learn from you and, hopefully adapt ourselves to your evolution."

It was a vague answer, given that Stephen had no idea what Adam was referring to. "What am I?" he scowled, his eyes challenging Adam as no other had before. "What did you do?"

Paysha, pulled from the throes of her recovery sleep by the sounds of their voices as they carried into he dreams, appeared on the top of the staircase. "You've been made a vampire," she answered. Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. "Just like one of us." All attention shot up to her as she ascended, her feet taking patient, delicate steps during her approach. 

"You are all vampires?" Stephen gulped. He looked from face to face in disbelief. "I thought that was just a myth."

Eve approached him and laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "To the contrary," she smiled, her expression alleviating the worry he held in his eyes, "Mankind has perpetuated that we are a myth simply as a matter of self-preservation." 

"How so?" He began to fidget, wringing his hands in front of his chest. 

Letting out a low laugh, Paysha asked, "Would you have lived differently if you knew that the monsters in the dark that you feared were real?" She waited for an answer, which ended up being an incredulous jaw drop, before continuing. "The mythology we were raised with, Gods and monsters, are all real, but, contrary to what we were taught, they are one in the same."

Eve applauded. "Bravo, my dear, I couldn't have explained it more clearly."

"Do you mind if I take Stephen into the library?" Paysha's question seemed to come from left field, but was all to relevant to the topic of conversation, As Eve bowed her head giving permission, Paysha beckoned Stephen to come with her, leading the way to the large library doors. She leaned close to his ear as he got close to her and whispered, "I'll show you what I know." 

"Paysha," Adam said sternly as he watched them walk away. She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. "Please, remember yourself," he warned. 

She was unsure what he meant until she reached out and grasped Stephen's hand. In that moment, she was rushed by not only Stephen's memories of what happened after their altercation in the basement, but also flashes from some other being, someone or something with ancient ties. Her eyes widened as she glanced back at Adam, recognition flashing across as he mouthed, "Demiurge." Nodding, she sucked in a deep breath and pulled Stephen away into the darkness of the enclave in which the library door hulked.

"What's wrong?" Stephen asked when he thought they were out of earshot. "I'm not a normal vampire, am I?"

Paysha attempted to smile reassuringly, but it came off as gargoyle-like, twisted into a pained, grotesque mockery. She shook her head. "You are not," she finally replied. "In fact, you're anything but." Grasping the handle on the solid door, she pulled gently, nearly slamming its mass into the wall beside the spot where Stephen stood. 

"How do you mean?" He jumped slightly at the door's bang, but seemed less fazed by that than what had happened in the last 24 hours.

She didn't answer him right away, instead leading him into the bowels of the dank room. A stack of books sat on a settee and Paysha moved it before sitting down and inviting Stephen to sit next to her with a pat on the worn cushion, sending up a plume of dust. He took the seat next to her and folded his hands in his lap, his eyes curiously fixed on hers. "There's something ancient that looms inside you," she finally said. "I believe Adam used you for a guinea pig."

The more he learned about his new found situation, the less he believed any of it. "This is sounding a bit ridiculous," he scoffed.

"No," she said, "It's not." She grasped his hands again, clasping them in between her own, letting her fingers dance along the knuckles along his lithe fingers. Closing her eyes, she let the images of him flash through her mind, taking great pains to memorize what she saw there, sure that the emotions she culled from them were evident on her face as she heard him suck in a sharp breath. "Relax," she said softly. "You've nothing to be concerned about at the moment. All I've been able to discern is that whatever this is that Adam's done to you only serves to make you more powerful. You've been in the sun, yes?" She opened her eyes and settled them on his.

"I have," he shrugged. "They pulled me in from outside at sunset." It took him a moment before he did a double-take. "How do you know that?" he asked suspiciously.

Her fingertips traced circles on the backs of his hand and he wasn't sure if she was aware of the action. She stopped and replied, "We all have abilities that the blood magnifies. Mine happens to be that I can read everything about someone, like, for instance, I know you have a younger brother named David. Eve can date any object she touches. Adam is a virtuoso."

"That's amazing," he gushed, impressed with everything she told him. "What are mine?"

Paysha shrugged. "I have no idea. You'll know it when you experience it. Until, then, we're to scour this room and find what we can about Demiurges."

"What's that?" He seemed as puzzled as she had been when Adam had introduced the concept.

"Adam is fairly certain that your friend was at least part Demiurge," she explained. "Basically, it is a being that created all matter, as Adam explained it." Her own sensibilities no longer human, Paysha zeroed in on a book that she wanted high up in the stacks. Rather than waste time on trying to find and then climb the rickety ladder, she scaled the shelves, taking one at a time, testing the stability of each with a well-placed foot.

Stephen watched her with increasing interest. He realized that she couldn't hurt herself, at least not cause any lasting damage, but he still couldn't help but cringe with each wobbly hoist. "Be careful," he warned, His voice seemed to echo into the recesses of the room, muffled only slightly by the volumes that insulated the walls.

"Catch!" Paysha announced moments before a thick book was hurled at his head. He flinched and shot his hands out to catch it, marveling at his new reflexes. The book, though large in size, thick with a durable leather cover, should have been heavier than it was. It felt feather-light in his hands. He didn't see Paysha jump from her perch until she was next to him. "Crazy, huh?" she grinned. "You'll get used to it quickly, though."

He shook his head. "I don't think I could," he said. 

She chuckled. "Well, you seem to have adjusted to being a vampire well."

"I'm still in shock," was all he could answer. In the past 24 hours, his life had changed so dramatically that he'd barely had time to catch up. He'd had no idea that, when he knocked on the door of the dilapidated chateau and got a glimpse of this tragically beautiful woman that she would become a major player in his life.

Unaware that he still held the book, Stephen jumped in surprise when Paysha took it from him and began to thumb through the mildewed pages. "This one seems to have the most complete information," she observed, her eyes scanning text at a rapid rate. "This seems interesting," she observed, pointing to a passage on the page. "The Demiurge was known as the sower of souls. It was believed that, while souls were created by another God, they were dispursed by the Demiurge." She looked up at Stephen, her face frozen in concentration. "By that matter, it would make sense that he would have added in his own likenesses. Hybrids." Her attention was drawn back into the text. "The Demiurge was completely immortal."

"Aren't vampires?" Stephen asked.

Paysha smiled as she flicked her eyes up at him. "Not especially," she replied. "We can be killed by fire, stakes, sunlight..."

"But I was exposed to the sunlight and I didn't die," he argued.

She nodded. "Demiurge blood, I think." 

Stephen watched as she delved back into the volume, noticing with endearment that her lips moved ever so slightly while she read. He knew there wasn't much he could do, save wander around the room and look at whatever caught his fancy. He could tell that Paysha had spent a significant amount of time and memorized which books were where. His attention was drawn to only one thing: her. After making one rotation around the library, he returned to her side. The scent of her wafted into his nostrils, apples and spice mingling with the iron of the blood that coursed through her veins. His breath stirred her hair by her ears as he whispered, "You smell divine."

Far from being shaken by his proximity, Paysha smiled and turned her face. "You're smelling the blood," she responded. 

"No," he returned, "I can smell you, your essence, on top of the blood." She was intoxicating him and he felt a stirring of desire for her that had never been evident before. He felt the need to hold her and, without thinking, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, his lips grazing over the vein in her neck as he brushed her hair out of the way. She didn't struggle, instead acquiescing to the events as they unfolded, and leaned back into him, her head rested on the bony protrusion of his shoulder. "I want to devour you," he growled.

Paysha realized she was edging him on, but she didn't care. There was a connection she felt to Stephen that went beyond the physical need for companionship. Despite the cool, hardness of his skin, his embrace was warm to her. She closed her eyes as she felt his mouth on her own flesh and leaned her head away from him, only serving to expose herself further to the inevitable. Her ears were flooded with the rush of her own blood, pumped by the beating of her undead heart and it made her euphoric. She let slip a moan as the tips of his canines pierced her, sighing as she felt her lifeblood flow from her. "You haven't fed properly yet, have you?" she managed to ask, her voice thin and weak.

He pulled his mouth from her. "No, why?" His tongue lapped at the remainder of the ruddy drops on her neck.

"You feed like you're ravenous," she answered. Paysha lifted her head from him and twisted in his arms, facing him, her eyes swimming deliriously. "My turn." Her grin transformed as she bared her teeth and leaned into him. She breathed in his scent as he had hers, noticing the mingling of tobacco and earthy smells like pine and sunlight. She hummed as she pricked him, her tongue curling to catch the liquid as it spilled from him, her lips cupping against his soft skin. Careful not to drain him too much, she disengaged herself from him when she felt her energy level even out. 

As she leaned back from Stephen, she licked her lips, cleaning them of the final bit of blood left on them. She opened her eyes and settled them on him, noting the darkness inside his own. He looked like an animal, fierce, feral, wild, about to pounce. "I want you," he said, his voice gruff with darkness. He didn't wait for her permission before kissing her, his mouth devouring hers with as much hunger as he'd had when he'd fed from her. He pushed her up against the bookshelf and pressed against her, giving her nowhere to go. 

She didn't fight back before, and she didn't want to, now, either. He could have done whatever he pleased with her, had they not been stopped by the sounds of Adam and Eve calling for them. The voices got closer and the library door flew open. Paysha and Stephen righted themselves as quickly as possible, standing at attention like guilty schoolchildren as soon as their progenitors were in sight.


	11. Chapter 11

There was a brief moment when Paysha thought the exchange between herself and Stephen was unseen, but those hopes were dashed the moment Adam and Eve rounded the corner. "I see you've taken quite the liking to each other," Eve smiled, winking ever so slightly at Paysha. "Has Stephen's ability made its appearance yet?"

"Not yet, that I can tell," Paysha answered. She didn't realize until that second Stephen's hand had crept over and grasped hers, though, when she noticed it, she couldn't quite tell if it was an indication of unity or a reaction needing comfort. Squeezing back, she tried to read him, but his thoughts were hazy, their previous clarity fading to static interference. Turning her head to look at him, she knit her eyebrows together and scowled. "I can't read you," she whispered.

Stephen grinned at her. "I'm aware of that," he replied, his voice keeping low, though why it should have been a secret, neither of them knew. 

"Are you doing that on purpose?" Adam asked, his movements fluid, catlike and immediate as he pinned Stephen's shoulders to the book shelf behind him. His eyes narrowed with suspicion as they drilled into Stephen's. "Can you control it?"

Eve rushed to Adam's side in an attempt to pry him off her progeny, while Paysha grasped Stephen's arm, staking her claim on him. "I believe I can," Stephen replied, docile despite the tug of war he was suddenly the center of. "In fact, I believe you could try to move me right now and would find yourself unable to."

In response to Stephen's challenge, Adam repositioned himself, bracing his feet and grasping Stephen around the waist. Try as he might, he couldn't lift. He grunted as hard as he could, but the man felt like he was formed entirely of osmium. Defeated, he let go with a groan. "Fuck," was Adam's only reaction as he moved back towards Eve.

"Well," Eve took a deep breath, "I think we've found his ability." She moved closer to Stephen, reaching out to touch him herself. "My turn to test it." Her fingers closed around his wrist while her other hand flattened against a book spine on the shelf behind him. Closing her eyes, she concentrated but found nothing. In the space where normally a plethora of information would be vibrating from the tome, there was a void. She shivered and pulled her hands away like she'd just been burned. "It's astounding," she said, her eyes wide, "You seem to have the gift of blocking our abilities." 

Adam studied Stephen, his face growing more solemn than Paysha thought possible. "Is it the Demiurge blood that's doing this?" he surmised. "We'll need to test that and I believe I need a more advanced laboratory in which to do those tests."

"We could ask the doctor at the clinic," Paysha offered.

"That's not a bad suggestion," Eve agreed as Adam wrapped his arms around her waist. "We've already got a relationship established with her."

Adam shook his head. "It's a tenuous one at best," he grumbled. "I would hazard a guess that, were she to actually discover what we really are, that relationship would be over."

"What if she doesn't?" Stephen asked. All eyes were upon him and he suddenly felt like the hapless prey thrown into the cage of hungry tigers. He took a deep breath and stood straight, pushing his chest out towards them in a show of bravery. "You could send me in and I could have her run tests on me."

"I've already run tests on you," Adam answered. "What would more do? I want to compare your blood with our blood."

Stephen zeroed in on him, his eyes narrowing in challenge. They could have been two alpha males at each others throats in the animal kingdom. Here, at least, they were civilized. "Come with me, then."

Adam scoffed. "I couldn't possibly..."

"Why not, Darling?" Eve asked. "He's right, you know." She twisted in his arms to face him. "You could use some time out in the real world and with someone other than me. What would you do if I were not around?"

"Don't say that," he growled. "Don't ever say that." He held her even closer, his eyes pinned on her, his expression fierce. He softened as she returned the glare. "I just... I don't know what I would do without you."

She cupped his cheek with her palm an stroked his chin with her thumb. "You'd manage, Darling," she said softly. "But I'm not planning on going anywhere soon."

"I could go with Stephen," Paysha piped up, her desire to see the resolution of the stalemate overcoming the need for decorum. "I mean, my blood is presumably different, right?"

Adam shook his head glumly. "You drank from him," he replied. "I don't know how that will effect your own blood." He sighed. "I guess I have to go." 

"I'm proud of you," Eve whispered as she let go of him.

"Thank you," he answered begrudgingly. Turning his attention back to Stephen, he groaned, "Come on, we best get this over with before sunrise." He led the way out of the room, leaving the two women alone.

"Do you think they'll be alright?" Paysha asked Eve as they left.

Eve pursed her lips. "I hope so."

Before Adam and Stephen exited the chateau, they stopped by Adam's lab in the basement and Adam grabbed a vial of the Demiurge blood from the cooler. "We may need this," he explained as he tucked it into the pocket of his shirt. 

The night was cool and calm, promising to be easy on their passage as the new moon had just risen over the horizon, its sliver of silver peeking intermittently through the trees as they traversed the gravel road. The way was deserted as they walked, even the concrete highway that ran through the town. Adam usually avoided this road on account of the amount of vehicles that traveled it. He preferred to stick to the lesser-known village streets that only the locals knew, but this night, they needed the speed that the highway offered. As they reached the outskirts of the town, Adam instructed Stephen to stay in the shadows. "The fewer zombies see us, the better," he said. 

They stole into the square, their senses on high alert as they approached the clinic. There was no one milling about, like there had been on previous visits. Adam had always sent Paysha in to deal with the doctor, but this was the one time he couldn't do so. He opened the back door, keeping his movements slow, fluid, so as not to set off any alarms and to maintain the silence that shrouded the building. Once he was inside, he motioned for Stephen. The lights inside were so blindingly bright that they needed to put sunglasses over their sensitive eyes. As they tiptoed down the corridor to the main examination room, they were accosted by a nurse in bright blue scrubs. "What do you think you're doing back here?" she asked, her loud voice ricocheting off the sterile walls. "I won't be having some junkies coming in here and stealing our supplies." 

She reached up to grab their shirt collars when Stephen stopped her, his hand closing around her outstretched wrist. "You don't want to do that," he said, his voice calm and controlled. He slid his shades down to the end of his nose and peered over them, the glare from the fluorescent tubes above them making his pupils tiny pinpricks in the center of his dark eyes, which glowed a fierce red. "It would be an extremely bad idea to throw us out."

The nurse seemed to lose all control of herself. Her previous stand-offishness melted into a complacency. "Alright," she replied as she lowered her free arm. "What would you like?"

Stephen smiled darkly, his eyes narrowed as he peered at her. He licked his lips, his tongue darting out and whetting his parched mouth so quickly that she couldn't see him, but Adam did. 

Adam watched the entire scene as it unfolded, his inner voice telling him he needed to stop it, his predatory nature watching in rapt attention with the desire to see what would actually happen. He leaned back against the wall as he watched Stephen first woo the woman, his entire being oozing a feral sensuality that she responded to. He caught her other wrist and pulled her to him, her thin frame seeming all the more fragile as she didn't resist. The scrub hat she wore slid from her head and floated to the floor revealing a cascade of fine, straight blond hair that fell halfway to the center of her back. As he leaned close to her and inhaled her scent, her azure eyes closed and her mouth opened to an O-shaped pout. The muscles of Stephen's jaws flexed as he contemplated where to bite and then, like a viper, he opened his mouth and struck with deadly accuracy. Crimson spurted from the pierce in her neck and hit the far wall, some of it spraying across his sleeve, but it was only a small font and lasted only a second until he covered the wound with his mouth and suckled. After a brief moment, she went limp in his arms, her slack body slumping away from him, her legs holding her up no longer. 

As soon as he was done with her, he dropped her, her lifeless body a rag doll discarded by an unruly toddler. Stephen licked his lips again, this time swiping his tongue to clean what remained on his mouth of her blood. Adam regained his attention with a simple statement. "You ought not to have done that," he grimaced. "We may have needed her."

Stephen shook his head. "We didn't," he responded. "She was useless to us for anything other than food."

Adam scowled. "Regardless," he growled, knowing that his only recourse against Stephen was his voice, "Now we need to figure out what to do with her before we visit the good doctor." His gaze wavered from Stephen to the dead nurse and back. "You didn't think about that, did you?"

"No," Stephen answered. He glowered at Adam, a petulant child that had been rebuffed after sullying his favorite toy. "Lead on, oh Master," he growled.

They continued down the corridor until they found the doctor hunched over her exam table, a plethora of paperwork spread out in front of her. She was concentrating, her eyes intent and with purpose, though what purpose they didn't know. They stood behind her, silent spectres observing until she caught a glimpse of Stephen from out of the corner of her eye and jumped in surprise. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed. "Who are you?" She spun around on her stool and faced them. "Please don't hurt me." Her eyes trailed down to the spatter of nurse's blood that decorated Stephen's shirt sleeve.

"We're not here to harm you," Adam held up his hands, palms out, his voice hushed. "We just need your help."

She looked confused as Adam reached into his shirt pocket and pulled the vials out, flattening his palm to show her. "What do you want?" she whimpered, still not convinced that she wasn't in mortal danger. From her expression, Adam could tell she trusted him but each time her eyes darted to Stephen, she was terrified. "What do you want?" she repeated.

Stephen let out a predatory growl as he sat on the examination table, knocking some of her paperwork to the floor. "Just get it over with," he complained. As he slapped his hand against the paper that covered the table, he made the doctor jump.

Adam shot him a disapproving look. "Calm yourself," he warned. Turning his attention back to the doctor, he began to explain. "I need you to help me with comparing this blood sample and our own. You see, I've got a suspicion that it has properties that may be able to heal someone with my particular... um..." his eyes squinted as he searched for the word he wanted to use, "My disability."

"What would that be?" she asked, suddenly curious, her interest in the science behind his proposition making her forget her fear of Stephen, but only momentarily. Her judging eye swept over Adam, then Stephen, then back to Adam. "Are you anemic?"

"No," Adam sighed. "It's photodermatitis." He saw Stephen's questioning look and shrugged. "Sun poisoning."

He handed the vials to her. She examined them in the light, swishing them against the top of the vial, watching the viscous red as it trailed back down into the rest of the blood. "These have been well preserved," she commented. "How did you come across this supposed cure?"

"By chance, really," Adam answered, speaking before Stephen could tell her the truth. "We had a donor who showed signs of the disease and then was cured. This is his blood sample."

The doctor began to relax as the realization that she was the only one who could help them seeped in. She nodded, then moved towards the door, "Follow me," she instructed. "I need my lab for this." She pushed easily past Adam into the hallway and turned left with the two men following her. The lights had been tampered with, their low flickering making everything in the corridor look like it was strobing. Adam heard her startle at the body of the nurse slumped against the wall and was afraid that she was going to get emotional, that she would see them for the killers they were and scream, he expected anything but what she did. "I never liked her anyhow," she whispered under her breath as she stepped over the corpse's legs. She pressed her hand against the door to her right and opened it, letting the motion lights flash on as she entered. "Welcome to the lab, gentlemen," she announced.

Adam let Stephen pass, then rounded up the end of their procession, vowing to make Stephen clean up his mess before they left. They walked past the nurse, neither showing concern for her now-lifeless body, and into the lab. The doctor was already committing a sample of the Demiurge blood on a slide. "Please, sit," she instructed, motioning to a bank of three chairs positioned against the furthest wall. "I'll be getting samples from the two of you in a moment." She marked the slide with a piece of tape and a sharpie and sealed it before grabbing two needles with syringes from the workbench next to her. She pocketed one of these as she moved toward Adam. He watched as she flicked the orange plastic protective piece from the needle, letting it drop carelessly onto the floor. "Now, hold out your arm." He did as he was told, sliding his long sleeve up over his elbow. The doctor held the barrel of the syringe in her mouth as she pulled a piece of rubber tube from the pocket in her lab coat, then tied it tightly around his upper arm. "That should hold you," she said as she plunged the needle into the prominent vein in Adam's inner elbow. As she untied the tubing, Adam watched, fascinated as his own lifeblood gushed into the glass, curious to see if it was any different than the blood he, himself, had worked with. Oddly enough, there was nothing that he could see to differentiate it, save a slightly richer color. "There," she nodded as she pulled the needle from him and handed him a cotton ball. "Press this against your wound for a few minutes. I can get a bandage if you'd prefer."

He smiled. "I don't think that will be necessary," he replied as he held the white cotton in his fingertips. "I heal quickly." Her scowl was enough to make him place the cotton over the spot she had drawn blood from. He felt like a schoolboy getting reprimanded by his teacher. "Yes, Mademoiselle."

Stephen was next and, contrary to what Adam thought would happen, he cooperated as the doctor repeated the collection procedure on himself. He smiled at her, tried to charm her, tried to win her favor, but it was not how he'd done with the poor nurse in the hallway. In here, he was charming, but the dangerous vibe he'd been giving off had dissipated and now he was jovial, flirting with her and slowly gaining her trust. "Is that all you need?" he asked when she was done. 

The doctor blushed, her body language indicating that she wasn't used to that type of attention, much less from a dashing gentleman such as was before her. "I think we'll be alright," she answered as he winked at her. She turned away quickly, once again her preference for communicating resting solely on Adam with his clinical understanding and cool demeanor. "I'll need your names on these," she said, holding up the vials.

"A and S," Adam instructed. "You only need our initials."

"Of course," she shook her head. "Subjects A and S." She wrote these on the syringes before discarding the needles into a bucket marked "Biohazard." With a sigh, she turned back towards them and asked, over her shoulder," I suppose you need these typed as well as identified via DNA processing."

Adam nodded his head. "That would be preferable, though I suppose that will take some time." 

She smiled. "Actually, it can take anywhere from 24-72 hours." When Adam looked confused, she added, "There have been quite a few upgrades to the system since CSI started."

Stephen guffawed when Adam shook his head. "It's television."

"Oh," Adam scowled. "I don't really watch television."

"Yeah, I'd guess not," Stephen shot back.

Sensing the obvious tension between the two, the doctor interjected, "How can I get hold of you when I have the results?"

"We'll be around," Adam answered. He stood up and bid Stephen to follow suit. They nodded to the doctor and left the room. As the door closed behind them, Adam pointed to the nurse's body. "Clean that up," he growled.

Stephen shrugged. "How?"

"Grab a body bag and put her in the morgue, for all I care." Adam was beginning to feel the burn in his gut from the lack of decent sustenance. He'd spent so long in his own lab and babysitting Stephen that he'd forgotten to drink. "I'll meet you outside." He was confident that Stephen wouldn't abandon him. For whatever reason, he thought that the fledgling was not quite aware of how to control his abilities and would need the tutelage he would get from his elders.

The air was still crisp and cool as Adam stepped back outside, the town now entirely devoid of humanity. He sauntered around the corner of the building aware that if he were still mortal, he would have been freezing, but the chill was nothing. Still, he rolled his sleeves back down in an effort to stay as inconspicuous as possible, just in case he happened upon some zombie stumbling out of a pub. There was a slight breeze, only hard enough to ruffle the leaves of the trees overhead and it blew a lock of his hair into his face. With a sputter, Adam cleared it away, just in time to see Stephen exit the clinic. He waved, only to be ignored. He huffed and began to stomp toward the wayward fledgling. "Stephen," he whispered fiercely in an effort to keep his voice down.

Stephen saw Adam striding towards him and smiled mischievously. "Why, Adam," he said as the elder approached, "You do realize that it's nearly sunrise, don't you?" When he saw Adam's eyes flick towards the Eastern horizon, he laughed darkly. "I dare say, we won't make it home before daylight."

"If we hurry," Adam responded. 

"Oh, I don't think so," Stephen glowered as he thrust a needle he'd hidden behind his back into Adam's arm. He pushed the plunger in, watching amused as the green liquid it contained disappeared. "I think you'll be asleep when the sun comes up and I'll be gone."

Adam ripped the needle from his arm and lunged for Stephen. "What did you do?" he yelled, his voice elevating with each word. "What did you do?" He hoped it wasn't poison as the world began to darken. His hand around Stephen's throat loosened, and he slumped to the ground. 

"Sweet dreams," he heard Stephen chuckle as he lost consciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

Eve began fretting as soon as Adam and Stephen left the chateau. She paced the floor in the library, creating an uneven figure-eight in the dust as she wound around stacks of books and the large table in the middle. "I regret sending him," she mumbled as she shuffled, her fingers twining into nervous knots in front of her, her head bent down as though in prayer, with the occasional quick glance for each noise she heard. Of course, it was always a sound that an old house would be expected to make, but it didn't lessen her anguish any. 

Paysha tried to busy herself by exploring some of the unused rooms, assigning herself the task of a proper house cleaner by organizing the items she found, making piles of trash that she intended to return for and dispose of at some other time. The job was dusty and dirty and she found that within the first hour, she was covered head to toe in a thick layer of minuscule debris. She didn't mind, though. In fact, when she'd been a child, helping her mother clean had been one of her favorite things. The thought of her mother sent a wave of melancholy through her. She'd never see her mother again, nor her family for that matter, she realized. Only now did she realized that she'd not given her mortal life proper send-off, that the shock she'd had in being transformed into this other creature had so completely consumed her that she'd forgotten, until now. Not that her mortal life had been all peaches and cream, either. There had been her share of hardships, but at least human, she'd had close companionship, which was something she was sorely lacking as a member of the undead.

It was when the soft tendrils of sunlight that began to form like smoke on the horizon that Paysha realized exactly what time it was. She began to make her way back downstairs, to find Eve, when a cold, clammy feeling invaded her. Had she not known better, she'd have thought she was struck ill with the flu. Her head began to feel like it was spinning as she descended the final stairs and by the time she reached Eve in the library, she was doubled over in pain, her insides wrenched together and twisting themselves tighter. With a groan, she fell at Eve's feet. "Something's happened," was all she could groan.

"They're not back yet," Eve replied as she knelt down next to Paysha. "I'm worried. The sun is almost up." She grasped Paysha's arm and tried to pull her up to a standing position. "Come on," she coddled, "You need something to drink."

Paysha managed to nod her head. "Adam," she whispered. "In trouble."

Eve tried to convince herself that the girl was delirious, that the illness she was feeling was a direct result of drinking Stephen's blood. "Damn that man," she cursed under her breath, "Messing with things he ought to have left alone." She didn't believe a word of it, but it felt better to blame Adam for not thinking things through than it did to consider the alternative.

She dragged Paysha into the hallway and weighed where to take her. The salon was closest and there was a settee there she could lie upon, but it was not the most comfortable thing to sit on, its stuffing long since compressed with the passage of time and the once plush velvet upholstery was worn and had all the feeling of a fine burlap against bare skin. Ultimately, she made the decision to hoist the girl over her shoulders and carry her up the wide staircase to her room. Eve didn't nearly have the physical strength Adam did to tackle a task like carrying Paysha's dead weight, but she had determination and agility in droves and it was upon these that she drew until, at last, she had entered Paysha's room and laid the girl down on her own bed. "Now, you lie here and I'll be back with something to make you feel better," she whispered as she smoothed back the loose locks of hair around Paysha's face. 

"Adam," Paysha groaned again in obvious delirium. "Adam's sick."

"No," Eve answered as she left the room, "I'm certain he's fine." She closed the door softly so as not to disturb Paysha any more than she'd already been disturbed, but she couldn't help but feel that the there was some truth to Paysha's claims. She tried to shake off the fear that the girl was correct, that Adam was in trouble, as she retrieved a flask of O negative from her room. Adam had taken to hiding the whole stash of blood there since the trouble they'd had with her sister, Ava. A beam of sun cascaded between the heavy drapes and she grasped one side, scooting it over the light just enough to get by it before reaching down into the steamer trunk underneath it and retrieving the blood. 

Eve returned to Paysha's room to the sound of the girl moaning. She could see her writhing in pain and she attempted to pin her down, still her. A tremor ripped through the girl's body. "No!" she shrieked, sitting up so suddenly that she threw Eve from her. "No!"

Trying to calm her, Eve shushed her. "It's alright, Darling," she said softly, "Just drink this and you'll feel better."

Paysha relaxed against a bank of pillows and closed her eyes as Eve held the flask to her parched lips and tilted it just enough that the red liquid would run down her throat. The blood was cool, thicker than normal as it crept its way into her mouth and coated the her dry throat. The panic she'd had just moments before began to subside into exhaustion and resignation. When the bottle had been drained, she sighed, "We need to find him." 

"How are you feeling?" Eve tried to change the subject just enough so that she wouldn't have to think about Adam's absence or the fact that it was daylight and he'd not managed to make it home. "Do you need more blood?"

"No," Paysha answered, her voice weak and scratchy. "I'm fine, but we need to find Adam."

Eve shook her head. "We can't. It's daylight," she explained, "You and I both need to get our rest."

A pang ripped through Paysha's midsection and she felt she was going to vomit, going so far as to lean over the side of the bed before the sensation subsided. "Can you feel Stephen?" she asked.

"I can't," Eve replied, realizing that she lacked the connection most had with their progeny. "It's like he doesn't exist," she said, shocked by her own admission. "I can't feel him at all." Her legs buckled and she sat hard on the bed, her thin frame bouncing slightly towards Paysha.

Paysha sat up and grabbed around Eve, holding her in an embrace that was more terror than comfort. "I. Can. Feel. Adam." she hissed, enunciating each word. "He's in trouble."

The words struck a bullet of fear that lodged in Eve's heart. She held her chest as surely as she'd been struck and sucked in a sharp breath. "I fell helpless," she whimpered, a tear trailing down her cheek. "Cursed sunlight!" she yelled, pumping a fist towards the window before collapsing against Paysha, spasms of sadness wracking her. "I can't lose him... I can't. Not now. Not like this."

Remembering her task, Paysha pushed away from Eve. "We have shrouds," she said as though it was a revelation. Shaking her head like she was clearing cobwebs from her mind, she continues, "Up in the attic, when I was cleaning, there were black burial shrouds. They were heavy, packed in mothballs in a ceder chest. We could use those."

Eve considered rejecting the idea, but, as she began to see Paysha's idea in her mind, wiped the tears from her eyes and responded, "They might just work, though I'm not sure about the heat of the noon sun."

"Shall I get them?" Paysha scooted and stood up from the bed before Eve nodded. Once she received the confirmation, she sprinted out of the room, down the hallway and up the back flight of service stairs to the attic. Her body still ached, but she ignored it, instead focusing herself on the task at hand. She reached the door and it creaked open to barely a touch. It was dark, musty, dusty, the only light leaking in from a window that was covered in years' worth of grime and lichen, and filtered by the shadows of the creeping ivy that shrouded it from the outside. It provided just enough illumination for her to see what she needed as she found the chest it was in, lifted the heavy lid and propped it up with a thick walking stick that was leaned against the wall. She fished her hand inside and felt the rough folds of fabric, then pulled them out, one by one, laying them on the floor next to her feet. After closing the chest again, she gathered the shrouds in her arms and went back down to Eve.

The older vampire had moved to her own room and was lying on her bed, clutching the pillows that smelled like Adam, breathing in his essence as though it would help calm her nerves. "Here they are," Paysha said brightly as she shook the shrouds out and spread them across the vacant part of the bed. 

Eve sat up, her eyes rimmed with red and reached to feel the thick weave. "Hmm, early nineteenth century. Wool. These will do," she sighed, "I hope." She pulled one over her lap as she swung her feet over the side of the mattress. "Now, I do believe we'll need something to further protect ourselves."

Paysha's eyebrows knit in concern. "Like what?" she asked.

"Reach under the bed frame," Eve instructed. "There's a gun. It's loaded."

Following her directions, Paysha knelt down and slid her hand under the wood of the bed frame and swept back and forth with it until she felt something other than cobwebs. There was a box, steel, with a lock on it. She felt for a handle and, upon finding it, pulled it from its hiding spot. "It's locked," she observed as she hefted it onto the bed. 

Eve pulled a key on a chain from around her neck. "Good thing I've got the key," she smiled. She saw the look on Paysha's face and felt it warranted further explanation. "Remember I told you about Adam in a dark place?" she asked. When Paysha nodded, she finished, "Well, I hold the key so we can't get into that place again."

"So, he really meant to, then?" Paysha was astounded. Adam, despite his curmudgeonly behavior, was the strongest of them all.

Nodding, Eve unlocked the box. She smiled, reminiscing, "Marlowe used to refer to Adam as a, 'Suicidally romantic scoundrel.'" Pulling the gun from its nest in a pile of old velvet, she palmed it, considering its weight, then tucked it into her waistband. "Already loaded."

The two women wrapped themselves in the shrouds, pulling them around enough to cover as much skin as possible. The fabric smelled like mildew and mothballs, worse, Paysha thought, than the items she and her mother had cleaned out of her grandmother's attic when she passed away. They held their hands together, pressing the cuffs like funereal monks as they made their way down to the basement door. "I'll go first," Paysha volunteered. "You know, just in case I explode into a ball of flaming agony."

"No, we'll do this together," Eve said, steeling herself as she put her hand on the door knob. She twisted it and pushed outward. Sunlight flooded in around their feet and crawled up their bodies as they made their way outside. 

Paysha flinched as the light hit her, its brightness nearly blinding. She was glad she'd worn her sunglasses, imagining that if she hadn't she'd have been blinded. "Please work," she whispered under her breath as she followed Eve into the daylight.

The door swung shut with a slam as its heavy wood yielded to the wind that blew through the clearing. Paysha and Eve both jumped, realizing in tandem that they were submerged in absolute sunlight, that immolation was not imminent and that the shrouds Paysha had found were the perfect density of protection from the deadly rays. "Let's go to town, then," Eve said, her voice full of determination.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now a complete chapter... sorry for the mix-up!

Their progress was slow and measured, Eve making sure she gauged the direction of sunlight at any given moment, working with determination to stay in the shade as much as possible. In a way, it helped that the day was bright, that the sun was so brilliant that the shadows it produced as it shined on the trees in the forest were more pronounced than usual. Had it been overcast, they ran the risk of stepping into what they believed was shade, only to be accosted by filtered sunlight and painfully burned, worse yet, immolated by its rays. They also avoided the main thoroughfares as well, keeping mostly to glade and thicket, traversing the road only when given no other choice, until, on the cusp of evening, they arrived in the town. "See if you can feel him," Eve hissed as they cowered near the dumpster of a cafe. "Find my Adam." Her voice broke with desperation and Paysha knew she was more than worried. Though they'd been separated before, it had never been under such futile circumstances.

Paysha closed her eyes and concentrated, her breathing slowing as she tried to glean Adam's thoughts from the melee of information that crowded her mind. She could hear him, weakly. "He's alive," she whispered.

Eve slumped against the dumpster in relief. "Oh, thank goodness," she sighed. "Can you tell where he is?"

Shaking her head, Paysha answered, "No, he's too weak." His signature faded. "I can't hear him any more." She reached out to pat Eve's hand in sympathy, in comfort, but Eve recoiled. "What's wrong?"

A strange look shadowed Eve's face, a darkness as she gripped the metal container through the shroud. "There's death here," she said, easing herself around the bin and towards the far corner of the building. "I can feel it in my bones and the stench is thick here."

Paysha moved to follow her and a piece of her shroud caught on the lid of the bin, lifting it just enough that they were able to peek inside and see the bloodied body of a woman once the cloud of blowflies had dissipated. Clasping her hand over her mouth, Paysha mumbled, "Oh, my god!" Eve lifted the lid further and Paysha watched as the waning light slowly revealed more. The woman was younger, heavy set, but not overly so, dressed in scrubs. "I bet she works at the clinic," she suggested. "One of the nurses."

Nodding, Eve agreed. "This does not bode well," she whispered. "I believe that's where we should begin our search for my beloved." Without waiting for Paysha to follow, she glided into the square, her shroud falling from her shoulders as the last of the sunset fell behind the horizon. No heads turned to look at her, she moved between the people like some ethereal being that was nothing but a breeze to them, an abstract. Paysha followed suit, her own graceful step hampered somewhat by her own nerves, unsure of being seen in the low light of early evening. She came close to barreling into a man as she lost momentary sight of Eve and topped to search for her. Upon seeing Eve's white blonde head bobbing above the crowd on the opposite side of the square, she began to follow and managed to evade the man only by contorting her body into an unnatural puzzle piece. She saw Eve duck under an awning and through a door and she hurried to get inside, herself. 

Only once Paysha snuck through the door, letting it close soundlessly behind her, did she realize that they were inside the medical clinic. It looked markedly different in the lighter part of the evening, its bank of windows with their shades barely drawn to keep the daytime brightness from blinding patients, the lights inside not quite on, leaving it in a murky dusk. Eve had come to a stand still in front of the check-in counter, her hands grasping the corner of it like claws. She looked panicked as she watched something behind the bar- a look Paysha only understood once she arrived at Eve's side. The receptionist, the same sweet girl who'd been there when Paysha had first visited them, was crumpled on the floor, her back against the wall behind the desk, her throat ripped open by some sort of vicious animal. She swallowed her own revulsion and worked her way past some debris and around the counter, kneeling down once she was next to the unfortunate receptionist. Taking the girl's hand, Paysha swallowed hard. "It was Stephen," she gasped, barely able to get the words out before dry heaving in disgust."

Eve closed her eyes and shook her head. "I was afraid of something of this sort happening," she said glumly. "I warned Adam not to mess with it, but his damn stubborn streak and those fucking scientists are all he's thought about since Stephen invaded our privacy." She turned her eyes to Paysha. "We should have killed the both of them. I knew it, Adam knew it, you knew it." She drew in a deep breath and stood up straight. "Come on," she instructed, "Let's you and I find out what other horrors await us."

Paysha emerged from behind the desk and followed Eve through the door leading to the examination rooms. The building was as silent as a tomb, the bloody hand-prints on the walls, the spatters on the linoleum, the flickering of a half-dead fluorescent light hanging by bare wires from its socket, all adding to the eerie effect. She began to feel Adam again, to hear him, though it was only a whisper. She leaned close to Eve. "He's here," she said quietly. Eve only nodded as she nudged a door to her right open and peered inside. "Is there a basement?" Paysha wondered aloud.

"Let's just keep looking," Eve instructed, her own voice barely more than a whisper itself. "Follow your instinct."

There was a metal door halfway down the corridor and beyond that, more wooden exam room doors. Paysha stepped around Eve's prying form and pushed on the metal, hearing its hinges squeal in defiance as it begrudgingly opened. A whiff of cold air tinged with the metallic scent of blood wafted past her and she could hear faint voices. "Eve," she called as quietly as she could, motioning inside the doorway as soon as she had her attention. Eve stepped behind her and followed as Paysha pushed the door the rest of the way and plunged herself into the darkness. What they found was a metal landing overlooking the clinic's boiler room. There was more metal, steps that led down into the abyss, and Paysha took the first of these, ascending into the bowels of the building and into the darkness below. Her eyes adjusted at a rapid pace, pupils dilating so she could make out first the outline of the boiler itself, then, like a camera lens focusing, the details became sharper. "Adam?" she called as she reached the lowest level. "Are you here?" She heard a groan and followed the sound into the labyrinth of machinery, pipes and wires, until she saw an arm hanging from the side of what looked to be an old Army cot. "Adam, is that you?" Rounding the corner and seeing what he looked like, her breath caught in her throat.

Adam turned to look at her, his eyes piercing her, but he looked frail. His muscular body was emaciated, his skin burned with angry red blisters, his lips parched and cracked. "Paysha," he coughed. "Eve."

From behind Paysha, Eve emerged and alighted next to him, kneeling down beside the cot and gingerly grasping his hand. "I'm here, my love," she cooed. "What predicament have you gotten into?"

He tried to answer, opening his mouth, but barely a hiss came out. Scowling, he tried it again, once again failing to speak. "It was that friend of his," came a voice from behind the side of the boiler. All of their eyes shifted, peering into the darkness, watching as the lab-coated doctor came from inside some small crevice. "He killed my staff," she explained. "I was the only one left alive and when I went outside to get help, I found this one lying in the street, succumbing to the sunlight, so I brought him inside and we've hidden down here on the chance that the other one might return."

Eve stood and placed her hand on the doctor's shoulder. "I am grateful for that," she smiled. "You're a good doctor."

"Call me Sophie," the doctor replied. She looked concerned for a moment as she glanced at Adam's invalid form. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea how to further help him."

"I do," Eve nodded. She sat on the very edge of Adam's cot. "Drink, my love," she said before biting open a wound on her wrist, letting the crimson of her blood drip down her arm before placing it over Adam's hungry mouth. "That's it, drink of me and heal thyself."

Sophie looked far from horrified when Paysha dared to sneak a glimpse at her. Instead, she looked curious, analyzing what she was seeing, processing it. "You're vampires, aren't you?" she finally asked, her attention settling on Paysha. "You drink blood are allergic to sunlight, am I correct?"

Paysha smiled. "We are," she answered. "So is Stephen." When Sophie looked confused, she added, "The one who was with Adam."

"About that," Sophie said after a moment of thought, "I've had a little time as I've run up to the lab, to check the results of the tests Adam asked to run."

It seemed like the air was completely sucked out of the room as all three of the vampires froze and their eyes were drawn to her. Eve was the first to break through the thick silence. "What did you find?" she asked, her voice belying the fear and apprehension she felt.

Sophie took a deep breath, centering herself before delivering the news. "At first analysis, the samples I was given appeared completely identical," she revealed, gauging their expressions. What she found was surprise, shock, confusion, before she continued with her explanation. "However, delving a bit deeper into the make-up of the blood, without having to wait on DNA tests, I found that there were certain markers in both samples, but that one had greater quantities than the other."

"Which means?" Paysha asked impatiently.

"It's a chemical concentration in the blood," Sophie answered. "I would liken it to the undead equivalent of 'roid rage."

There was a groan from Adam and they all watched him as Eve took her wrist from him. "That's enough, Darling," she smiled. 

He looked markedly better, his blisters having reduced to small red splotches on his skin, the dryness of his thin lips replaced by hydrated plumpness, his skeletal body filling back out as Eve's sustenance coursed through his veins. "Have you run the DNA testing?" he asked. His voice was thin, but better than before. "I'd like to know the results of that."

Sophie nodded. "It's been ordered, but I can;t rush it. I've had to order it from an outside lab because I am definitely not equipped here."

Eve took a deep breath. "Are we safe to stay here?"

"Yes." Sophie held out her arms and they could see she was marked with small teeth-marks. "I know it's not much, but I also know you are probably quite hungry. You're welcome to feed on me, if you need to."


	14. Chapter 14

The DNA results could not come soon enough. Sophie ventured out of the boiler room in the daylight, hoping the rogue wouldn't return to finish the job. She cleaned what she could after notifying the authorities about the assailant, and reporting the murders of her staff. Despite their fatigue, the vampires could hear her above them, could hear the scraping sounds of equipment moving across the linoleumed floors as the clinic was cleaned. Paysha could sense her, could hear her thoughts. Sophie wasn't frightened of them at all, despite knowing what they were. She was curious, Paysha could tell, her lab tests were only the tip of the iceberg of them. She wanted to know more, she wanted to be more. 

Paysha was troubled by the information she read from Sophie, filtered as it was through her experiences. She fought herself, halfway between revealing what she knew to Adam and Eve, or keeping it to herself. The reason Sophie saved Adam was more than a case of simple curiosity, beyond what one would consider human kindness. In the brief time she'd been acquainted with him, and in the hours spent nursing him thereafter, Sophie began to have feelings for him. Of course, Adam was too far gone to reciprocate, Stephen had taken enough from him and his injuries were too great that all he could do was lie there and hope for the best, either life or death, whichever took him first. 

Eve ought to know, Paysha reasoned. As Adam's wife, it was her right to know that another woman was falling for him, but she was afraid of the consequences of revealing anything. Though Eve was a nurturing, understanding, caring soul, she also harbored a fierce love for him, and that meant fighting for him until the ends of the Earth, if need be. With a sigh, Paysha resolved not to say anything. They needed the doctor, needed her facilities, her medical know-how, her connections to the outside world, however tenuous they were now.

Sophie's other thoughts and feelings played against each other. She was a conundrum. While she played the part of gracious hostess to the band of vampires, she, herself, was not akin to having close friends. In fact, her practice in the village was fairly new and she'd chosen the location because it was far away from her past. Sophie'd left everyone she knew to begin again. It was a story that seemed to mirror Adam and Eve's own. Even Paysha sought escape to a certain degree. Everyone had something they were running from and the fates brought them there.

Adam and Eve were sleeping, nestled into each other as best they could on a pallet on the floor made up mostly of moldering blankets and what was able to be found in the clinic upstairs. Paysha laid on the cot. She attempted sleep, turning restlessly as it evaded her. The rest was needed, but evaded her as the pictures in her mind flashed past in an endless loop. The time felt like it both dragged but went by in a flash. So embroiled in her thoughts, she barely noticed when Sophie opened the door and announced it was dark outside. 

She stepped down the metal stairs as gingerly as she could and approached Adam. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she shined a pen light into his eyes.

He flinched. "I'd be doing much better if you'd get that bloody light out of my face," he groaned. His strength was returning, bit by bit. Eve helped him sit up and he leaned back against her, using her bent knees for support. "Have you heard anything, yet?"

Sophie nodded. "I've got the tests back, but I think you should eat before you hear the results." Her eyes swept across their faces. "All of you should eat."

"Have you got any more of the O-Neg?" Paysha asked.

"Sorry, no," Sophie scowled. "Most of it was taken by that... other one. What I had left, I gave to Adam to help with his injuries."

"Darling, do you think you'd be able to make it outside?" Eve asked, her voice calm but full of concern. "The fresh air would do you good as well."

He shifted, his face showing a twinge of pain. "I think I can manage," he answered, "But I'm not sure I'll be able to find anyone."

"Nonsense," Paysha responded abruptly. "I'll find someone and we can share." She wasn't sure how that would work for the zombie she found, but she was confident in her decision. "Now, you just wait here and I'll find someone." She stood up and laid her hand on Sophie's shoulder. "Now please," she whispered into the doctor's ear, "Say nothing about the results until I've returned and they've fed."

Sophie nodded. "Adam is more frail than he lets on. Eve is weak. They need the sustenance."

Hesitant as she was to leave them, Paysha knew it was unavoidable. Eve was the only one fit to help her and she wasn't leaving Adam's side. As Paysha climbed the stairs, she glanced back, catching a glimpse of Sophie and Eve laughing and joking, Adam with a slightly amused smirk. They would be fine.

She marveled at how clean Sophie was able to get the clinic, enough so that there was no longer even the scent of blood in the air. Everything was back to its former gleaming splendor, advertising that the clinic was hygienic, inviting people in for the medical services they needed to a sterile environment. She could see how they would be comforted by it. Sophie had, however, also placed a sign in the window that said the clinic was closed until further notice due to urgent emergency. Paysha wasn't sure if the emergency was the lack of staff or the fact that the basement was full of vampires. Either way, it afforded them all at least a modicum of secrecy- something they desperately needed close as they were to that concentration of people.

Paysha unlocked the door and pushed through, turning around to re-lock it with the key Sophie had given her, before setting out. She hadn't glanced out, but she could see in the reflection of the building's glass that, even in the impending darkness, the streets were bustling. There were still vendors out with their carts, hawking their wares- everything from handmade goods to food that would have smelled delicious, were she still human- to people window-shopping and children playing. 

She knew she would have no troubles finding someone on whom they could feed, her only problem was how to get them to come back with her. Considering this, Paysha unlocked the clinic door and removed Sophie's sign before setting back out. Her mind concocted a variety of scenarios, the most promising of which was to feign injury and have dinner delivered straight to the clinic. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she snickered at how cleaver she was. 

As she wandered through the town's streets, Paysha waited patiently as the crowds of people thinned out. Most of them retired to their own homes for dinner, others repaired to the town's pubs and cafes that were open, the rest, the few who milled about, the streets were their haven. She kept her eyes on them, wary of any unsavory behavior that might prove a tip-off to their own true characters and provide her with enough of a glimpse that she could discern their true nature and use that to her advantage. The only people she wished death upon were those that had it coming.

There was one particular man she kept an eye on- shady figure who skulked in the alleys between the buildings. His thoughts were a blur, she assumed from perhaps mental illness, but the ones she did pick up were evil in its purest form. He, himself, was stalking a woman who was completely unaware of his presence. She was simply walking her dog, clad in tight shorts and a tank top, earbuds in her ears with her music turned up loud. The perfect victim for a man like that. Paysha picked her way around, keeping carefully to the areas where the man wouldn't see her, the plan in her head to wrestle the man to the ground before he could unleash his own dastardly plan.

As she snuck up behind him, she kept herself as silent as possible, moving only when his concentration was completely on his intended victim. He crouched, waiting to make his move, but right before he was able to, Paysha pounced, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You ought not to do that," she hissed. "You're a bad, bad man." He was not a small man, but not large by any stretch of the imagination, either, and she took him to the ground with ease. As she brought his eyes to her own, she caressed his cheek. "Now, you get to serve a higher purpose," she smiled. The man was too stunned to do anything other than submit and she could hear in his thoughts that he was under the assumption that it was all some horrid dream from which he would wake up. Hopefully.

Paysha leaned down and bit, just below his jaw, gently at first, then increasing in pressure to allow his blood to flow into her mouth at just a trickle. He tasted sour, the sweat from his skin, obviously not washed any time recently, mingled with the sweet of his blood. Slimeball, though he was, he'd never ingested any untoward substances and his blood was cleaner than she'd imagined it would be. All the better to help Adam heal, she thought. 

When she'd had enough for herself, she grabbed a handful of the man's shirt and hefted him to his feet. "You're coming with me now," she growled, more menacing than she'd imagined she sounded. As she spun the man around and began to push him in the direction of the clinic, a hand covered her mouth from behind, another wrapping around her torso, immobilizing her. In a panic, she let go of her victim, watching helplessly as he escaped into the crowd of vagrants on the other side of the square. 

The person who'd grabbed her had superhuman strength and she couldn't pick up any thoughts, any emotions, any memories, only static. She whimpered and tried to struggle away, only to be tightened around, the arm of the person constricting her like she would imagine a python would. "I knew you would come," a gruff voice whispered in her ear. "I knew you would."

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice muffled by the hand. But she knew. It was inevitable. As her own assailant turned her around and backed her against the wall, it confirmed every fear, every suspicion, everything. Paysha's eyes still widened. Stephen.

He smiled as he saw the shadow of recognition pass through her eyes, turning to a grin when he saw the fear that went with it. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked, removing his hand from her mouth, confident she wouldn't scream for help. "Am I that much of a monster?"

Paysha nodded. "You've killed innocents," she answered. "You killed Adam." She didn't want to let on that Adam was still alive, lest Stephen decide he needed to find and finish the job. She couldn't read Stephen's thoughts at all. It was as though he was hard-wired to short her circuit. "What do you want with me?"

Stephen leaned in close and whispered, "You. I want you." He grinned again, less menacingly. "I knew that if something were to happen to Adam, you would come to find him. I counted on it, in fact. I know Eve came with you." 

"We needed food," she said, trying to keep her voice as flat and emotionless as possible. "That vagrant was our food."

He chuckled. "I see you've fed," he replied as he dabbed a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth and sucked it off his own finger. "Eve, I would imagine, is able to find her own." Searching in Paysha's eyes, he continued, "Unless, Adam is still alive." She gave away nothing. "Is he?" he asked menacingly. 

She shook her head. "No."


	15. Chapter 15

Paysha woke, her own thoughts blurry and disorganized. She could make out the semblance of a table across the room, it's top filled with a variety of tools. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair she sat on. "Help!" she called, hearing only her own voice as it echoed through the room and ricocheted down a corridor. There was nothing here, no one else. Except him.

As soon as she cried out, Stephen was at the door, his menacing figure a silhouette against the dim light behind him. "You're awake," he observed. "Now, will you yield willingly to me, or will I need to keep you bound?" 

She gauged the timbre of his voice in an attempt to rely on instinct, but he was cool, clinical, calculated. "I'll submit," she sighed in defeat. "Untie me, please."

Stephen approached and used a knife he'd tucked into the belt of the jeans he wore to slice through her bonds. He helped her up, dropping the knife to the floor with a clatter. "I'm not stupid," he growled in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her and clasped her hands behind her back. "I know you want to run, my little rabbit."

Shaking her head, she protested, but she knew it was all in vain. Stephen had the upper hand and if she had any chance to escape, to save Adam and Eve, it would require her cooperation. Instead, as he held her face to face, hands twisted behind her back, she kissed him. "I'm all yours, now," she purred.

He escorted her from the room, which turned out to be more of a storage room in a large abandoned industrial building, to a freight elevator and into his own quarters. Stephen had managed to make it comfortable. The floor was open, furnished with items he'd scavenged from houses and alleys, or tooled together from odds and ends. He was rough as he pulled her towards the makeshift bed in the far corner. "It should be dark enough for you there, when the sun rises," he growled with disdain.

"What about you?" she asked. "Don't you have to worry about it?"

Stephen laughed, his deep voice ringing throughout the empty walls, sounding as hollow as the room they were in. "Adam saw to that when he fed me that bastardized blood," he sneered. "I was a guinea pig for his sordid experiments, but look who's alive and well? I bet he didn't see that one coming. Hmmm?"

She shook her head. "He wasn't psychic," she replied, consciously referring to Adam in past tense to keep the ruse of his death alive. "Eve is psychometric. I can see other... things." There was no use in explaining what she saw, she knew he was aware of her own gift and how his affected her. "You, on the other hand, seem to be opposite of all of us."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, his voice darkening as he pushed her down and sat next to her. "This entire time, I've been struggling with that... what is it, exactly I do?" He faced her and his eyes showed no emotion. 

Paysha sighed. "You block it, everything," she tried to explain. "When I'm with you, I can't read you. Eve couldn't read anything when you touched her. It's like I almost feel... human."

He grinned, leering at her with an evil that seeped out of every pore. "So, I'm a blank page to you, then?"

"You're static." She steeled herself and glared back at him, defying the fear he wanted her to feel. "You're nothing more than the fuzz of my mind before I fall asleep."

Stephen stood up and let out a sharp, exasperated breath. "You might want to cower in that corner a bit more," he said as he walked away. "The sun comes up in an hour and that Eastern window shines right where you're sitting."

Paysha wanted to shoot a smart comment at him, but she held her tongue. Instead, she chose to follow his instructions, pulling the heavy blanket from the top of the worn mattress with her as she scooted into the corner. She watched him as he moved about the expanse, his actions seeming, to her, more like an addict hopped up on methamphetamine. He was twitchy, jumping at every little sound as though he thought he'd get caught, for sure. He checked on her as the sun rose to see if she was asleep and she pretended to be, keeping her eyes closed as he was near, but letting one sliver open as soon as he was gone. At one point in time, she saw him produce a syringe full of a dark liquid, some of the blood, she guessed, and inject it. The substance immediately calmed him, the rage he'd been harboring subdued. 

After a few hours, Stephen came to the bed and laid down next to her, his body curling into hers, his arm rested over her hips, and fell into a deep sleep. Paysha followed suit, sensing the danger was passed, for the time being. When she woke, she knew she'd need to figure a way out and back to Eve and Adam. 

It was a sharp noise that woke her, the sound of breaking glass against the cinder block of the building, the shouting. It melded into her dream at first, but when it happened again, her eyes snapped open and she held her breath. She glanced down and saw that Stephen was no longer next to her and a quick sweep of the room told her he was no longer with her at all. The haze that had permeated her mind since he'd taken her was clearing and she was beginning to hear the thoughts of the people outside. Kids. It was a group of kids that had come to the building, thinking it abandoned, to party and destroy things. They were harmless, but the fact that Stephen was not present made her fear for their lives. On the other hand, she hoped they would provide enough distraction to him that she could escape.

Climbing from the bed, Paysha tiptoed to the window closest to the ruckus and peered down, hoping she could catch a glimpse of the group. She could barely make them out, There appeared to be five of them and they'd lit a bonfire on the cement below, pulled old tires and drums to make themselves seats around it and were cavorting with bottles in their hands that, when empty, were thrown at the building and shattered into a shower of shards that twinkled in the fire light like stars before they fell. Still, there was no sign of Stephen.

During her observation of the room, Paysha'd noticed two doors on the opposite wall- one that led to the elevator they'd come up in, the other, she didn't know. She hoped it led to a staircase, that she could use the stairs to escape, the elevator being so noisy it was impossible to sneak away. Kicking her shoes off, she tiptoed through the dust and debris on the cement floor on her way towards the door. Whenever there was a noise, it stopped her in her tracks and she would wait a moment before progressing, afraid each time that Stephen would suddenly be there and catch her.

By the time she reached the door, she was short of breath and her heart was pounding hard, her pulse racing at speeds she never thought possible. She pushed on the door with her finger tips and it moved, revealing a sliver of darkness beyond. A breeze swept over her from the opening, cold, stale air against her skin. Nothing emerged from the darkness. Taking that as a good sign, she nudged the door open enough to slide through it. She let the door close behind her, holding the handle so it would close in silence, and delved into the darkness.

Her eyes adjusted as she stepped into her shoes and tied them. From what she could tell, her guess was correct, but she could only see the concrete landing she stood on and then nothing, only a murkiness. She took held her breath and held onto the railing as she stepped forward, hoping that she wouldn't regret the decision. Her foot hovered in mid-air for a moment before coming down on first one step, then, further down, on another. She let the breath out as she picked her way down the steps, each step carefully chosen as she advanced into the abyss of the stair well. 

Paysha reached the bottom, her foot no longer finding a step down. She reached out with one hand and found a wall. Tracing her way along it, she moved slowly, deliberately feeling the texture, reading it like Braille, except instead of finding letters, she felt feelings - the embedded energies of people who'd been there before. She used it to guide herself until she found a way out.

Her hand hit metal. A door. She was careful as she pushed on it, the weakened structure of it nearly giving way under her pressure, but not before it creaked open, revealing the night sky. The ground was two stories below her, a large concrete slab nearly grown over with dry moss, covered in pieces of old machinery, empty beer bottles, cans and other trash. For a moment, she contemplated jumping, the knowledge that, were she to risk it, she'd sustain no permanent injuries, at the forefront of her mind. She gauged her trajectory, sweeping her eyes along the peripherals of the slab, and tried to plan her route. There was a break in the chain link fence almost parallel to her on the opposite side and it seemed to be her best bet. Carefully, she held onto the door frame and stepped out, one foot hovering in the air, the other solidly planted until she jumped. Paysha held her breath and closed her eyes, not wanting to watch the impact and fearful it would be painful. She stepped into the air, letting go of her hand hold, and fell. For a moment, she felt elation, pure freedom, and imagined she was a bird in flight, but then she heard the sickening thud of her own body as it hit the pavement. There was a searing pain that ripped through her knees and wrists due to landing in a crouching position, but it dulled as she let out her breath. Waiting, she stayed where she was, listening for any indication she was in danger. There was none. 

She stood up and ran, ignoring what was left of the ache in her knees, heading for the break in the fence she'd seen from above. Out in the open of the yard, she felt exposed. Not even the warehouse shielded her. Her fear that Stephen would appear at any moment was a constant and she knew the faster she got through that opening, the less likely he was to intercept her. Her heart was pounding by the time she reached it and scrunched through it. She knew he would never be able to make it through such a compact area. 

Paysha was free and set out to find the town, to find Adam and Eve and to help them. She found a trail in the brush and followed it out, hoping it would go to the main road. The further she got from the warehouse, the less she thought about her ordeal. She hoped to leave Stephen behind, but she had no idea he was lurking in the brush, just behind her, following her.


	16. Chapter 16

Eve wondered where Paysha had got off to as she sat in the dark dankness of the basement. "Do you feel her?" she asked Adam.

He groaned, his injuries were not getting better. Sitting up, he winced in pain. "Not," he answered. "Nothing." Not that he'd been able to feel her presence much before. 

"Darling," Eve coddled, "Lie back down and relax. I'm sure she'll be back soon." She didn't like lying to Adam, but in his state, she felt it necessary. 

There was no telling what time of day it was or how many hours Paysha had been gone except for by the comings and goings of Sophie, which were sporadic at best. She would visit them mid-day as well as during the dead of night, often finding excuses such as drawing Adam's blood for more tests. He was getting tired of it. The last time she'd been down, he grumbled, "Don't you have enough fucking blood?" as she grasped his arm. 

Eve had tried to pull her away from him, gently lying her hand on Sophie's shoulder and urging her, "Couldn't you come back at a different time? He's so tired right now." In that instant, she'd had a glimpse at the darker side of Sophie's intentions, inasmuch as they'd seeped into the fibers of her clothing. As soon as Sophie shook Eve from her, Eve recoiled. "No," she gasped in disbelief. She hoped Paysha would return soon, if, for nothing else, than to heal Adam and get them out of that basement.

Sophie left in a hurry, the disdain she felt for Eve showing on her face eve more. "I'm only trying to help," she huffed as she climbed the stairs. She hadn't been back since and Eve couldn't have cared less, except she still held onto the hope that Sophie could help Adam.

They floated in time, two entities trapped in what felt like a vacuum of space while they waited. Eve curled up next to Adam, her head on his chest so she could hear the steady beat of his weakening heart and the rise and fall of his chest. She didn't want to lose him, but, she reasoned, if the fates should deem it so, she at least wanted to be aware of his reaper before it made its presence known. "Darling," she whispered, "My Adam, my love..."

There was a thump above them that woke Eve up. Her initial thought was that Adam's heart had played its final beat, but as the haze of sleep cleared itself from her mind, she realized he was still there, still breathing, still with a pulse. She raised her head to see a stream of the artificial fluorescent lights of the clinic pierce the darkness and refract as it hit the metal grate of the stairs. A shadow broke the light and Eve tracked the figure that stepped down towards them. As her eyes adjusted to the change of illumination, she was able to make out Paysha's features, though the girl looked more haggard than she had ever before. "Paysha..." Eve sighed. "You're alive. We were so worried."

Paysha smiled wearily as she collapsed on the pallet opposite Adam. "I'm sorry I didn't get anything to drink," she groaned. "It was Stephen. He took me."

Eve moved to her side. "No worries, Darling," she purred. "You're back with us, now. That's what counts. I'll go out, this time."

"No!" Paysha yelled, sitting up with her eyes wide. "He's still out there. He knows we're in the area. What if he hurts you?"

"I've lived a long life," Eve responded. "I doubt he'd kill me. Besides, I don't think it's me that he wants."

Paysha took a deep breath. "It's Adam he wanted," she admitted, "But I told him Adam was dead."

Nodding, Eve replied, "Good. hopefully, it will keep him away, then." She stood up. "Now about Sophie. Since you're back, she can tell us what she found." She tottered across the cement floor, her legs weak from sitting for so long. "I'll send her down before I leave."

"Don't you want to know the results?" Adam asked, his voice strained.

"Darling," Eve smiled as she got to the staircase, "That is your curiosity. I'll be happy to share with you when I return and you've regained your strength." She disappeared up the stairs, her own strength returning with each step conquered.

A few minutes later, Sophie climbed down. "Eve sent me down," she said, waving the stack of reports in her hand. 

"Please," Adam waved, his hand directed her towards the spot on his pallet vacated by Eve.

Sophie tried not to smile excessively, but Paysha could tell she was thrilled at the invitation. She plopped down with enthusiasm, enough so the the force of herself propelled her against him and he had to hold his hands out to help stabilize himself. "Sorry," she apologized. It was half-hearted, Paysha knew she'd meant to do it, but Adam seemed to accept her at face value.

Sickened by the way that Sophie was throwing herself at him, Paysha interrupted the scene. "So, what have you found?" she asked.

Clearing her throat and shooting an accusatory glance at Paysha, Sophie held up the papers. "The samples you gave me are nearly identical in genetic make-up," she announced.

When she paused, Paysha and Adam looked wide-eyed at each other. "What?" he asked in disbelief. "That can't be."

Sophie continued. "Except for one significant marker. I call it 'The God Genome.' Basically, the 'S' sample contained this in higher concentration than sample 'A'." She watched Adam for more of a reaction, but he didn't give her the pleasure of one. 

Instead, Adam was mouthing something to Paysha. When he realized he'd been caught, he turned his attention back to Sophie. "So, what does that mean?" he asked, scrutinizing her expression.

She smiled sweetly at him. "I thought you'd never ask." As she flipped to another page in her stack, she explained, "This is basically a super-genome - It has the capacity to strengthen whatever makes you, you." 

Adam took the papers from her, his mind switched to scientific mode and he forgot all decorum when that happened, and studied them, his tongue flicking out occasionally as he processed the information. Finally, he said, "I see."

"What?" Paysha asked. "What do you see?"

He looked up at her and his eyes narrowed. "This thing," he called it, afraid that if he named what it really was, he'd pique Sophie's curiosities more than they had been already, "Is, basically, like a drug." Slowly, he eased himself off the pallet and rose, towering over Paysha. "Come look."

Paysha nodded and stood to join him. They moved to the area in the basement that wasn't darkened by shadows and stood in the rectangle of muted illumination that came from the open doorway above. He pointed to a graph. "See this?" he asked.

"What is it?" she responded, knowing that he was going to explain it, whether she'd asked or not. 

His finger traced a spike on the graph. "This is the Demiurge blood," he whispered, then, speaking louder, said, "If we both have it, do you know what that means?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea." In reality, her cluelessness on the subject was more a ruse to keep Sophie at bay than anything. Paysha could read Adam's thoughts. He'd suspected all along that the transformation from human to vampire changed the human make-up into something else entirely and the evidence seemed to now support that theory, however he'd never had any blood to blood contact with the Demiurge blood and that was what puzzled him. 

"This traces our roots," he replied.

"And what would that be?" Sophie interjected. Neither Paysha nor Adam had realized she'd stood and joined them in their commiseration.

Adam shrugged, not willing to give her any more information on them. "I really have no idea," he said. "However, this God Genome, as you've called it, seems to be that it magnifies whatever abilities we have."

Paysha smiled. "So that's why I can read without the use of touch, now," she said, hoping it wasn't too obvious to Sophie that she could read thoughts . "And Stephen..."

"Became more of an asshole." Adam finished her sentence and looked her dead in the eye. "He's basically on a huge 'roid rage."

She shifted uncomfortably. "He hasn't always been like that," she mumbled. 

"Eve should know about this," Adam sighed. "I'm afraid she's in danger without knowing all the information. Paysha, you need to find her, protect her."

"I couldn't even protect myself," Paysha scoffed. When Adam scowled at her, she gave up her resistance. "Alright," she conceded, "But what about you?"

Adam returned to his pallet and sat down. "I'll manage." He looked worn-down, more so than she'd ever seen him. "Now, go," he grumbled, "The sooner you find her, the sooner we can get this whole thing over with."

Paysha tried to will Sophie upstairs with her and when that didn't work, asked, "Sophie, would you mind locking up behind me?"

"Sure," Sophie answered. She was cordial, now, but Paysha knew that as soon as the two of them were alone, she'd begin working on wearing down Adam's defenses. Secretly, Sophie hoped Eve was gone.

As soon as Paysha stepped out of the clinic and heard the doors behind her click, she regretted it. She couldn't feel Eve, but she could sense the static that she associated with Stephen. It was a sensation that got her hackles up and her eyes darted around to every corner and crevasse she could find, searching for either one of them, but to no avail.

She began combing the village, taking each winding road as she found it, not calling for Eve, but feeling for her, her mind waves reaching out like the long sweeping tendrils of a jellyfish in the ocean - floating, catching tidbits of thoughts from the people that were still around, looking for digestible evidence that would lead her to Eve and hoping it wouldn't lead her to Stephen.

It was a feral moan that called her from her search, the kind that can't indicate anything good. She was led to an abandoned boathouse along the river. The years of disuse had taken their toll on it, its battered wooden walls, the missing shingles, the broken windows. As she began to suspect whether the wail came from the shack at all, another one pierced the night and she felt Eve.

The closer she got, the more clearly she could read Eve, despite the interference of Stephen. Paysha wondered if he'd begun to weaken. She approached it with stealth, keeping as low to the ground as she could to escape any surreptitious glances he might shoot out the windows. There was a small light that shined outside and she avoided it as well until, finally, she was crouched along the wall.

Eve was weak. Stephen had taken her, drained her near the point of death. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice thin. She was in shock and the meager restraints Stephen bound her with were holding her as easily as thick, silver chains. "Please..."

Paysha bid her time, knowing full well that her actions and their implementation meant the difference between life and death for Eve. She tried to use her own abilities in reverse, hoping that Eve would hear her. "Eve, distract him," she sent out.

Just as she was about to doubt her abilities for telepathic transmission, she heard Eve wonder, "What was that sound? I could swear it was coming from outside."

"Good thinking," Paysha whispered with a sigh of relief.

She waited until Stephen had his hand on the door and was headed out of the cabin to make her move. She jimmied the window frame closest to Eve, sending a shower of splinters as it shattered, and climbed in. 

In the corner, Eve struggled against her bindings, finally winning the battle with them, the brittle rope Stephen had bound her with unraveling at her feet. "Oh, thank god," she exclaimed as Paysha supported her while she stood.

"He's near," Paysha whispered. "Let's concentrate on getting out alive." She carried Eve's frail figure to the window and helped her slide through, climbing back out behind her. 

They could hear Stephen on the opposite side of the hut as he yelled for whoever or whatever it was had interrupted him. He was making enough noise on his own that the women stood a chance at escape.

Paysha tiptoed to the riverbank. "Can you swim?" she asked.

Eve smiled and it was a reflection of relief and terror. "I've never had to," she answered.

"Hold onto my shoulders," Paysha instructed as she waded into the waters, hoping they wouldn't be washed away. She managed to get both their heads under the boathouse dock just as she heard Stephen roar from above. Tiptoeing through the sludgy river bottom, she stayed as close to the center of the river as she could, hoping if he caught sight of them, he'd mistake them for boulders. 

The current was strong and Paysha felt Eve's grip on her recede. "You're weak," she mumbled, her voice barely louder than the rushing water. "Take some blood from me."

Eve nodded and sunk her teeth into Paysha's shoulder, her tongue lapping at the sustenance as it flowed. She began to regain her strength. "Thank you," she said as she weaned herself away. "You didn't have to do that."

"I've got to get you back to Adam," Paysha replied. All at once, she felt the vertigo set in. "But don't thank me just yet," she said as the world began to spin. Her feet could no longer touch the bottom and she began to fight furiously against the current and her own loss of consciousness. It was a losing battle as she and Eve were swept downriver.


	17. Chapter 17

Paysha emerged from the river sputtering murky water and shivering from the cold. As she trudged up the muddy bank, she realized that Eve was no longer with her. In her hand, she clutched a scrap of the shirt Eve was wearing and assumed the worst. Eve was gone, perhaps dead, though the thought of an immortal being drowning seemed asinine. She could neither see nor hear the thoughts of her mistress, and the silence worried her. It was on the cusp of daylight, the sky just beginning to fade from the blackness of the night, with the silver edge of dawn breaching the horizon. Soon enough, the sun would rise and, were its rays to fall upon her, she'd perish. 

"Eve!" she called, scouring the banks, hoping against hope that she'd find her with at least some shred of life clinging to her old soul. There was no answer and the further Paysha searched, the more sure she was that she was alone. Stephen hadn't followed them, she was sure. He'd been too wrapped up in his own thoughts, his own diminishing strength, to notice the two women as they floated downstream. 

At the last possible moment, she looked for refuge and found it in the overturned hull of a long forgotten boat that was mostly buried in the silt and sand. Paysha clawed at the soil, digging her way under it, until, at last, she was able to clamber under it. Just in time, she gathered what she could of the ground beneath her and used it to block the hole she'd dug, closing the gap and secluding her from the invading ultraviolet as well as the world. Her heart beat hard and fast and thrummed in her brain. There would be no sleep, even though she was thoroughly exhausted. 

She was beginning to doubt she'd even have enough strength to emerge once daylight set again until she discovered the huddled form of a wharf rat as it shivered in the corner of the hull. Though the rats were known for their bravery, even they knew a fierce predator. Normally, she'd have given it no thought, but her appetite was raging and her need for something, anything, caused her to reach for the creature and rip its throat open, draining the warmth from its still-writhing body into her mouth. There was no sweetness to this act, no relishing the taste of it. The rat's blood was bitter, tasting of the refuse and filth in which the creature lived and fed, but it served its purpose. She began to feel revived. With her hunger somewhat sated, it allowed her the luxury of relaxing and falling into a deep, dream-disturbed sleep.

The edge of the boat lifted up and woke Paysha with a start. She wasn't sure what time of day it was, only that if the sunlight pierced her darkness she was dead. "Go away," she hissed as the edge crept ever upward. Thankfully, it was night, or at least close enough that the sun was down past the western horizon.

"I'm sorry," came a man's voice from outside the hull. "I didn't mean to disturb you." He began to set it back down when Paysha grasped his hand. She could see him clearly in her mind's eye. He was a gentle soul, a scavenger whose only agenda was to comb the banks of the river for anything he could sell for salvage. In her glimpses of his thoughts in those few tenuous moments, she could see his family. Farmers who'd been forced from their homestead during the war and perished at the hands of the enemy soldiers. In her half-dazed mind, she contemplated this, realizing only as she let go that it was impossible.

Climbing out from under the skiff, she saw him backing away. "Wait," she said, her voice breathy, weak. As her eyes adjusted to the dusk, she could make out his features. They were delicate, with big, wide-set eyes that looked midnight blue in the darkening light, sharp cheekbones, a jaw that tapered to a dimpled point. His nose was small, sloped in perfect proportion to the rest of his face, his lips, soft but thin. The man's hair hung in golden waves to his shoulders and offset the lightness of his skin. He could have been Eve's brother, so alike was he to her in complexion. "You're another, aren't you?" she asked as he regarded her. "I could see your family, during the war."

He was intrigued. Curiously, he advanced back towards her, offering her his hand as she sat in the sand and helping her to her feet. "Who are you?" he asked, forgetting all decorum. Like the people in the villages that surrounded them, his voice had the poetic lilt of the Provence. 

"You are another of us, aren't you?" she repeated, this time curling her lips and revealing a flash of a fang or him to see. "My name is Paysha."

Holding her hand up and kissing the back of it, he smiled. "I am Jean-Louis," he answered. "Other than my master, I've never met another." She could tell he was speaking the truth. In all the memories she could see, the only one of their kind she found was his progenitor, a kindly man, older, grizzled, with long gray hair and happy features. 

Paysha shook his hand free. She didn't want to see everything, she wanted to hear it from him. "Do you have somewhere we can go?" she asked. "I'm a bit weak, still."

"Come with me," he replied. Jean-Louis gathered his things, a canvas rucksack full of scavenged items and a carved walking stick, and led her up the bank and through the reeds to a grassy field. Beyond that, there was a forest and in the center of it, a stream. They followed the stream in silence, the only sounds coming from the nocturnal residents of the woods, until they reached an old mill.

The mill looked like it had been abandoned for centuries, its wooden wheel frozen in place by time and a thick coating of moss, the shingles hanging perilously from the roof in places, the windows with their glass broken out, boarded up from the inside, while their rotting shutters threatened to fall away altogether. He produced a large skeleton key from his pocket and opened the heavy door, its rusty hinges screaming as it creaked open. She could hear the settling of the floorboards as he stepped inside. Following him in, she could barely see, until he lit a candle and held it up. The inside was more appealing than the outside. It had been done comfortably in upholstery of fine brocades in shades of blues and silvers and furnishings more befitting a manor. As she looked around, she thought it looked more welcoming than the chateau ever did. 

"It's beautiful," she said as she sat down, upon his invitation. "Like a storybook."

Jean-Louis nodded and grinned as he put his things away in a cupboard under a set of rough-hewn wooden stairs. "My father was a master of storytelling," he said. "I call him my father, though he was the one who made me, because he was the one who saved me, brought me here, nourished me, made me the man I am." 

"He sounds like a wonderful man," Paysha replied. "What happened to him?"

He shrugged. "I've no idea. He left one day to explore some new horizons for us, in hopes we could move somewhere where the climate was better for his old bones, and never returned."

"I'm sorry." She really couldn't think of anything else to say. Jean-Louis seemed melancholy and she was afraid she'd touched upon something that she ought not to. In an effort to change to a subject that would not possibly incur the wrath of her host, she asked, "What is your special ability?"

"What do you mean?" He cocked his eyebrow at her and tilted his head.

She smiled. "Well, I have the ability to see things from someone's past and hear their thoughts," she explained, "Which is how I knew you were a vampire."

Jean-Louis thought for a moment. "My father always told me that I had the talent of a true poet, that I could tap into the emotions and express them as no one else he'd seen." 

"Perhaps, then," she sighed, "Your ability lies in the emotions." Thinking for a moment while she chewed the inside of her lip, she finished with, "How did you find me?"

"I could feel fear," he answered. A realization shot through his mind and his eyes lit up. "I believe you are correct," he finally gasped. "It has been there my whole life, this flood of others' feelings, and I always thought they were just part and parcel of some collective unconscious that I, with my heightened senses, could tap into, finally. Since I've never met anyone else, I assumed that, were there others like me, us, that they could hear it as well."

Payhsa began feeling faint, her minuscule rodent dinner having worn off. As the room began to spin, she closed her eyes and asked, "Have you got any blood?" She was sure her voice was weak. Her balance gave way and she began to fall from her chair, just as he caught her. "I'm feeling a bit weak."

Lifting her up, Jean-Louis carried her to a settee and laid her down. He bit his own wrist and held it to her mouth. "I've nothing at the moment," he said, his voice dropping to a soft timbre, "But what i have is yours. I was on my way to get more when I found you."

She nodded and clutched his wrist, guiding it to her mouth where she latched onto him and drank. He tasted like nectar, his blood sweet, pure, clean, and she wanted to keep it, to drink from him forever. In her addled, exhausted mind, she found no room to gather from him what she could, instead letting his memories blur around her like a haze, blanketing her as she drifted, until she lost her conscious self and fell asleep, losing her grip on him.

Jean-Louis eased his wrist from her hand and covered her with a blanket that was slung over the back of the settee.

When she awoke, he was gone, his presence in the dwelling relegated to the smell of him that clung to the antiquated furnishings. She wasn't sure how long she'd slept, but she had the distinct impression that it was more than just a few hours. The wood that was laid out for the fire when she'd first entered the dwelling was long gone, a new stack having replaced it in the cradle next to the hearth. In her sleep, Jean-Louis had taken what he could of her soggy, dirt-covered clothing off, leaving her in her modest underthings. She should have been embarrassed, but she was nothing but grateful. He'd laid out some new clothing for her, as well as a bar of milled lavender soap, with a note. "Dearest, I've gone to find us something to eat," he wrote, his script like that in an old text, all flourishes and flair. "Your clothing was in all tatters and I felt you'd like to have something more suitable to wear, so please accept this dress. Should you desire to bathe, I've drawn a hot tub for you in the rear bedroom. I'll see you upon my return. ~J-L." She smiled at the way he'd referred to her as "Dearest" and set the note down on the settee next to her. The dress he'd set out was a deep blue accented with rows of silver and was in the style of the gowns from the early 1900s. That was something she noticed Jean-Louis had in common with Adam and Eve - a proclivity to offering her clothing that was from more bygone eras, though they, themselves all wore more modern clothing. She almost felt like a doll to them, someone they could dress up and coddle. Jean-Louis' offering seemed decidedly different, though, like, rather than a chance finding, he'd sought the garment out specifically for her. She'd wear it happily.

The bath water was still steaming hot when she climbed in, an indication that she'd woken not long after Jean-Louis' departure, and she settled into it with a sigh, letting the heat warm her cold skin. A bath had never been so inviting. The soap bar he'd left for her was just as enticing, washing the grime from her ordeal from her skin and tinging the water with soap bubbles and filth. She'd never felt more human, an irony that caused her to giggle in her bliss.

Jean-Louis returned shortly after Paysha'd stepped out of the bath, dried off and donned the dress he'd left. It fit perfectly. She was admiring herself in the oval mirror, her hair still dripping, when he entered the room. "You look ravishing," he said, startling her.

"Thank you," Paysha replied, feeling a blush crawl across her cheeks. "I didn't hear you come in."

He shook his head. "I wanted to keep feeling your happiness," he smiled. He drew closer to her, almost floating across the carpeted floor. "How is your hunger, Dearest?"

When she was human, Paysha would have slapped any man acting as assumptive as he was, but something in the way Jean-Louis moved, his mannerisms, his charisma, melted her. "I'm famished," she admitted as she gazed into his eyes. There was no indication of anything untoward in them. She wondered if he'd ever had any experiences with women prior to his transformation and reached out to gently touch his hand. He had only one, a childhood friend his same age who'd been shot when her father refused to give up his home to the soldiers. "I'm sorry," she said.

Feeling the sympathy she had, he gazed at her, his smile fading to solemnity. "It was ages ago," he said, his voice softening. "Marie and I, we were friends. Eventually, we may have married, but that was the time." His demeanor towards her didn't change and Paysha could tell he'd long since accepted the conditions of his past. "I'm afraid it's been terribly long since I've seen anyone else, much less another of our kind. My social skills are a bit rusty." A tint of red brushed over his cheeks.

Paysha found herself drawn to him. She took a step closer and grasped his hand in reassurance. "Jean-Louis," she smiled, "You've nothing to be ashamed of. I can see how solitary it is here." Overwhelmed by the heady atmosphere of the room, she felt the compulsion to kiss him, but restrained herself, unsure if what she felt was real.

"It is," he admitted. Leaning closer to her, he whispered, "I can tell what you are feeling, don't forget that."

Astonished, Paysha's eyes widened. "But..." she began to protest as he placed a finger across her lips. Pursing her lips, she quieted and closed her eyes, only to feel the brush of his own cool lips across hers. She gasped and kissed him back as he embraced her. In that moment, they felt like they were meant to be.

Their brief bliss was interrupted by an insistent knock on the door and immediately, Jean-Louis separated himself from Paysha, ready to defend his home. He motioned for her to step behind him and she acquiesced after shooting him a stern scowl. She followed him into the main room of the mill and followed his lead, picking up one of the iron tools from the stand next to the fire place. They were cautious as they advanced to the door. Jean-Louis placed his hand on the handle and, before turning it, asked, "Who goes there?"

There was no answer. Erring on the side of caution, he motioned Paysha further behind him and stood to the side of the door, pulling it open towards him. A voice came from outside with recognition. "Jean-Louis! It's been too long!."

Paysha stood motionless. She knew it couldn't be, but, given what she'd experienced in just the last few months of her life, was not discrediting what her own mind told her, nor what her own ears heard. "Eve?" she said softly as she found the ability to move once again hers. "Eve?"

Eve was on the threshold, awaiting her invitation. She looked like she'd been through a worse hell than Paysha had, her clothing tattered fragments held together with holes, her normally white blond hair matted and the dark color of swamp water. Even her skin was ashy. Only her brilliant blue eyes shown as they used to. "Paysha! My Darling!" she exclaimed.

"Please, come in," Jean-Louis beckoned. "I've just returned with some supplies and I can draw you a bath."

Eve stepped in and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Much obliged," she smiled. Turning her attention to Paysha, she exclaimed, "I was afraid you were completely done for, my dear."


	18. Chapter 18

Paysha and Jean-Louis waited with baited breath, no words spoken while Eve bathed. They didn't need to - Paysha had the idea that he'd met Eve once before, that he's forgotten the meeting as it was early in his own inception and, even then, was a brief encounter during which he was more occupied with his own intensity. She had the idea that she and he shared more intimacy than he and Eve ever did.

Once Eve finally emerged from the back room, fresh, clean, wearing a new dress, she looked more herself. "That was divine," she smiled as she joined them by the fire. Placing her hand over her heart, she looked at Jean-Louis. "Thank you."

He bowed. "You're very welcome, my lady."

Curious as to the connection, Paysha impatiently asked, "How do you two know each other? I thought Jean-Louis had never met another."

"Other than my father," he corrected as he grasped her hand.

Eve was all too eager to tell the story. "I'm sure this is better left to Jean-Louis, as he is a much better wordsmith than I, but I cannot resist," she began. "As you've probably gathered, Paysha, Jean-Louis and I have, indeed met, though I'm sure he's got no recollection of it." She saw him nod in affirmation and continued. "You see, Jean-Louis' progenitor is none other than Kit. He's the only one that Kit ever turned. Kit had such the soft spot for the unfortunate, especially those who possess such an ability as this man, here."

"What do you mean, 'Had?'" Jean-Louis asked, his face fallen and drained of color. "Am I to understand my father is no longer among us?"

She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned close to him. "I'm so sorry, Jean-Louis," she answered. "In Tangier. He got hold of some bad blood from a clinic there and," she winced, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Jean-Louis sighed, "I lost him years ago." He put on a brave face, but Paysha could feel the pain radiating from him like heat waves. "Did he at least die among friends?"

"Adam and I were there, as was a student of his, a caretaker." She watched him with sharp eyes, waiting for a crack to show, but there was none. "He fought to his last breath and he never quit creating."

He took a deep breath and placed his free hand over hers. "Thank you, then, for being there for him." 

They closed their eyes in deference to each other, a sign of mutual respect, gratitude, shared trials. It was something Paysha'd seen happen between Adam and Eve on occasion and thought it was significant to their closeness. Now, she knew it was something else, something unique to their kind. She squeezed his hand, showing her own support, she supposed. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Were she human, still, she imagined her tears would be flowing and, even as a vampire, there was some semblance of emotion once she noticed Jean-Louis was crying, his cheeks wet with streaks of salt water as they glistened in the light of the dying fire.

He shook his head. "We all have our time. I wish that I'd have been able to see him again, though."

The three of them sat and talked, reminiscing, informing Jean-Louis of their own trials and tribulations, until the wee hours of the night, finally choosing to turn in at dawn's first light. Eve was led to the loft and given the only plush bed in the mill, as she was now an honored guest. Paysha resigned herself to the settee and began to make herself comfortable when Jean-Louis knelt beside her and took her hands. "I've been alone for so long," he said, his eyes pleading with her in the dim light. "Would you please... come with me?"

Paysha wasn't sure where he meant to go, but she willingly followed, rising from her seat and lacing her fingers with his as she followed him to the back room. He'd moved the tub and, in its place, was a pallet piled high with blankets and pillows, mismatched, lumpy, looking like heaven. "I slept here when I waited for you to awaken," he explained. "I know it's not much, but..."

She smiled and kissed him, mid-sentence. "You can't imagine how beautiful this is to me," she whispered before lying down on the pile.

Jean-Louis laid down behind her, curling his body around hers, a cocoon to a butterfly. They drifted off to sleep as the sun rose, closed in their haven. "You are beautiful to me," he muttered, last words before dreams. The truth.

It was the scream in the forest that woke them all. Blood-curdling, even to the ears of the sleeping undead, it pulled them all from haunted dreams into a brutal reality. Midday was upon them and none of them felt safe to leave the mill, not even under the thickest cover, to investigate, not that they needed to. Within moments of the cry, there was a sickening thud against the door followed by the metallic smell of blood. "Don't open the door," Eve commanded as she flew down the stairs. "We don't know who or what that is."

Jean-Louis nodded, his eyes wide with fright. Paysha couldn't but help feel for him. He'd only ever known this idyllic, albeit lonely life, and here his world had been turned upside down in a matter of days. She pressed her hand to the door in an attempt to feel something ,anything from the being on the other side, but there was nothing. "It could be Stephen," she said as she glanced back at Eve. "I feel nothing."

"Stephen?" Jean-Louis raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say, "There's more?"

Neither she nor Eve had said anything about Stephen. He'd been selectively omitted from their tales the night before and she hesitated to explain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eve place her hand on his back. "Jean-Louis," Eve said, "Stephen was one of Adam's experiments. A project gone awry. He was injected with some special blood and it caused a reaction."

"How special?" he asked, his voice full of new found suspicion.

Paysha hesitated to answer, her voice caught in a miasma of concern, not only for Eve, but for Jean-Louis. When she did, it came as a bare whisper. "Have you heard of a demiurge?" she asked him. When he nodded, she continued. "Sophie, our medical friend, found that whatever is in the blood is a basic component of our own, the beginning of our kind, most likely..." She glanced at Eve, "This is what she told us after you left." Looking back at Jean-Louis, she finished, "The blood Stephen was injected with was super charged, a direct descendant of the demiurge." When he gave her a confused scowl, she explained, "The individual who was the direct descendant was so by procreation, whereas we are created by transfusion, so our blood content of this is diluted, often by centuries."

"That explains why the ancients were so much more powerful," Eve added. "When I was young, the elders told stories about the supreme powers they possessed." She held her hand over her mouth. "If that's what he has inside him, now, we're fucked."

They realized that, of all of them, Eve had the greatest understanding and the best capacity to fight whatever Stephen had become. "Sophie said the results are temporary, at least," Paysha shrugged. "In the mean time, it's driven him insane."

"I hope it fades quickly, then." 

They waited, hesitant to do anything other than listen, barely wanting to breathe. When there were no more noises and the silence was only broken by the sounds of their breaths, Jean-Louis opened the door. At first, it was only a crack, enough to peer out of and see that the daylight was passing, that the sun was dipping below the horizon. It was safe to venture outside, so he opened it further revealing a wet, crimson blotch on the wood of the door and the item having made the blotch, Sophie's severed head lying on the ground where it ricocheted upon impact. Her face was frozen in a masque of pain and fear. He heard the women behind him gasp, followed by Eve's worried, "Adam."

When he turned around, they were embracing each other, sobbing. "What can I do?" he asked.

"Help us rescue Adam," Paysha answered, her voice nearly drowned by Eve's cries. She soothed her, rubbing her back with gentle touch. "And rid ourselves of Stephen."

He pursed his lips. "If he's got this concentrated blood in him, I'm certain our strength wouldn't match his," he replied, reasoning aloud.

"Except, I've got some as well," Paysha smiled. "Hopefully, it'll be enough." 

Jean-Louis looked impressed, but he didn't press for details when he saw the sad look in her eyes. "Then let's find him, mon cher," he said as he wrapped his arms around the women. 

They took nothing with them as they left the sanctuary of the mill. Their trek began at the cusp of dusk, at the point when the sun was hidden, the skies darkening, yet the light in the forest and the surrounding fields was bright. They wondered if it was the best strategy, if Stephen could see them in their obvious movements, if he'd deliberately lured them out so he could dispose of them, but time was of the essence and they were all aware that the faster they found Adam, the greater his chances of survival - if he was still alive. 

Silently, they trudged. The river was their chosen route and they stuck close to the banks, keeping to the reeds to help shroud them from view as much as possible. It took hours to move a short distance. Feet were often pulled into the muck and silt, the mud suctioning with each step. As though the task wasn't already daunting, the spectre of a new day came all too soon and, when dawn began to lighten the horizon and wash away the stars, they saw that they hadn't progressed as far as they'd liked. 

Jean-Louis led them away from the banks, towards an old country road and to a long-forgotten farm. Though the main house was decrepit, its rotten roof caving in on itself, its windows and doors a sagging face upon an aged building, the barn was serviceable. They pushed through one of the rickety doors, careful to keep it as intact as possible, found a mound of decaying hay and weeds and burrowed inside it. Huddled together in the stinking burrow, they all fell into an exhausted sleep, dreamless and deep.

The evening came all too soon and they were stirred more by hunger than anything else. Jean-Louis was the first to emerge from the burrow and he shook the loose dirt and hay from himself as he checked the perimeter of the building. When he'd assessed the safety of their surroundings, he roused the women and helped them out of hiding. 

The three of them looked raggedy and rough as they left the barn to begin their trek anew. Their hair was all matted into varying stages of disarray and, though they'd paid careful attention to removing as much of the detritus as they could, they still had errant pieces of hay and plant life fall as they moved. Their previously clean and new clothing was now in rags, the fabrics as stained and caked with mud as their faces. They smelled of the earth they'd laid in as well, the dirt and rotting vegetation creating a putrid perfume that wafted from them while they walked towards the road.

"We can wash off in the river," Jean-Louis suggested. "I know a place where it's calm and we won't get washed downstream."

Eve and Paysha were silent, but they nodded and followed, still tired from their night before, the hunger tearing through them with a vengeance. "Any chance you know of somewhere we might stop and eat?" Paysha asked.

He shook his head. "Sadly, no, the only sustenance I know of along this route would be the rodents with which you have previous experience. They proliferate in droves along this waterway."

She scrunched her nose in disgust at the prospect, an act that sent Eve into peels of laughter. Paysha shot her a sharp look. "Have you never had to rely on something like that?"

"Not really, no," Eve giggled. Her laughter was so infectious that, even though Paysha felt the brunt of the joke, both she and Jean-Louis joined in. 

They kept going, arriving at a bend in the river where the waters ran calm and clear. The water was glacial, freezing as they stepped in, but, in the same right, they were all glad to be clean and to rid themselves of the smell of the barn, even if it meant walking soaked the rest of the night.

"I know of another road we might follow," Jean-Louis suggested once they emerged from the frigid water. "There is a small town along the way where we might find some food, perhaps new clothing, if you'd like?"

Eve stood straight from ringing her hair out. "Please," she answered. "I think we'd all like that very much." 

"Yes, please," Paysha agreed. Her teeth chattered with the cold and she cuddled up against Jean-Louis in an instinctual wont for warmth. 

He draped his arm around her in response. "Everything will be fine, mon cher," he whispered as he leaned close. "You'll see."

Along their alternate route, there was not much of anything, save some stands of trees that the road wound through, an occasional bit of ruins, piles of stones that looked like they'd weathered centuries since their respective demolition, skirted by dilapidated quarried fences. The women began to doubt the existence of any human life, but Jean-Louis reassured them. Finally, they saw lights in the distance. The flickering candles in the window of a cottage greeted them as they approached.

Their hunger became sharp, but Jean-Louis held them at bay. "There's only an old woman who lives here," he warned. "She's too frail for the three of us, however she may have clothing. She's the village tailor."

The trio silently made their way around the cottage and found a shed behind it where the woman worked. With a found piece of metal, most likely the spring of a clothespin, Jean-Louis jimmied the lock and pushed open the door. "Take only what you need," he whispered, careful not to make so much noise that the woman would hear him. Once dressed, they stowed their old, stained clothing in a rain barrel and exited the property.

The town was not much further, but it was, as Jean-Louis said, tiny. The main road was home to five buildings, each with different businesses. Other than that, it was surrounded by tiny houses, some with lights in their windows and smoke streaming from their chimneys, others completely dark and inanimate. 

There appeared to be nobody about, but Paysha stopped as they approached the square. "I feel someone here," she said, hoping the others heard her. Following instinct, she found a drunk sleeping off his inebriation behind the pub. He was curled up, huddled against the building, shivering with the coolness of the night. She reached down and placed her hand on his shoulder. He was strong and not a habitual drinker, but that day he'd lost his job and that night he'd lost his family. It was difficult not to feel some sympathy for the man, but she managed to compartmentalize, pushing his humanity out of her mind and concentrating instead on her own hunger and need. 

Jean-Louis and Eve followed her into the shadows, she their bloodhound and they the hunters, and knelt down next to the drunken man as she assessed him. "Careful, children," Eve mothered. "We don't want to drain him within an inch of his life, yet I know our appetites need sating. Drink enough of him to take the edge off, then we will leave him. He'll only think it was the alcohol that made him light-headed."

Paysha nodded. "He's good," she said as she lifted one of his wrists and sniffed it as though he were a piece of ripened fruit. She sunk her fangs into his vein as Jean-Louis did the same with his other wrist. Eve waited until they were quietly feeding before leaning down and puncturing the vein in his neck. 

The drunk reacted with a groan to their intrusion, but remained complacent. The thoughts that Paysha found coming from him were nothing other than wondering if he was hallucinating, perhaps the victim of a bad dream. Soon enough, he fell back into his stupor.

After a few minutes, Eve unlatched herself from him, then bid Paysha and Jean-Louis to do the same. "That will have to be enough," she said, her voice thick with blood. 

They pulled themselves away, their heads swimming with the high that came from feeding, even with the pittance they'd had. "Shall we continue, then?" Jean-Louis asked, his eyes dazed. In his hands, he held a set of keys that fell out of the man's pocket.

"Please," Eve replied, demurring to him. "We need to get to my Adam."

They searched for and found the man's car, a late-model Peugeot, midnight blue, parked on the far end of the town. Paysha took the driver's seat with Eve at her side and Jean-Louis in the back seat. She put the key into the ignition and turned - the engine roaring to life much to their delight. "Let's go save Adam," she smiled as she pulled the car away from the curb.


	19. Chapter 19

Their town was dark when they arrived, still bathed in the twilight that was pierced only by the stars in the clear, damask sky and the brief sliver of new moon that peeked from behind the surrounding trees. It was also silent, an eerie harbinger, Paysha thought, to what they'd find. It seemed that life in the idyllic village came to a standstill, time frozen in action. Carts of food and clothing and other wares littered the square, their items still displayed for sale. Childrens' games were drawn in the dirt, halted, marbles and all, by unseen hands. Doors were wide open, the shoppes beckoning, but there were no shopkeepers. It took no special senses for her to see that something was amiss because there was a delicate lace of blood spatter that blanketed nearly everything and the air smelled of iron.

Eve pushed past Paysha and began walking with great caution towards Sophie's clinic, apprehension filling her and making even her normal graceful movements stilted and awkward. She looked as though she'd topple over with the slightest wind, tottering along as she was, but she kept pushing forward. There was nothing she wanted more than to assure the safety of her beloved. She's lost others before, some to the sands of time, some to the ravages of war, others to human cruelty, but none so loved as Adam. For him, she would stop at nothing.

Paysha followed, still grasping Jean-Louis' hand. When she felt his hesitation, she looked over her shoulder and explained, "He turned me." Jean-Louis nodded in understanding. If saving Marlowe had been an option, he'd have gladly done it. He stepped in time with her as they advanced on the building.

The clinic was dark inside. Eve delved into the inky interior, but Paysha tried the switch on the wall. The lights were dead, the electricity gone, as she assumed it was in the rest of the town. She took a deep breath to steel her resolve and fell in behind Eve. Sensing Paysha's presence, Eve whispered, "Can you feel him?"

"It's faint," Paysha replied. "I'm not sure if he's in this building. If he is, he's weak."

They traversed the hallway, noticing that the clinic seemed the only place in the town with a bleached, disinfected smell, everything scrubbed spotless by detailed hands. Even in the darkness, it had a glow to it. "I don't like this," Jean-Louis muted, his grip on Paysha's hand growing tighter with each step. "It feels like a trap."

"Hush," Eve warned as she stopped at the door to the boiler room. Her tone was sharp and immediately commanded the attention of her companions. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand against the metal. "This is new," she sighed. "This is all new."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Paysha said, keeping her voice low. She pressed her own palm against the door when Eve nodded. She could feel that Adam was inside, weak, near true death. For a moment, she wished she could feel Stephen, if even a brief emptiness, a blip of static on her own radar, but there was nothing. There was nothing to indicate he was there, but there was also nothing to indicate he was gone. "Shall we take a chance?"

Eve nodded and pushed the door open, hoping it wouldn't creak and reveal themselves before they were ready. It stayed silent, save a slight whoosh as the rubber on the bottom scraped along the cement landing inside. As Eve descended down the metal stairs, keeping her own footfalls to the minimum, only ghostly taps that could be mistaken for a mouse's, Paysha could hear the ragged breathing from below. She cast a glance back at Jean-Louis, communicating her intent with her eyes before following Eve. Jean-Louis nodded and let go of her hand.

The air in the basement was stifling, thick with humidity emitted by the hulking boiler, the heady smell of blood that hung like a metallic mist, and the taste of fear. Paysha was afraid of what they'd find. Her mind played tricks on her, showing her flashes of Adam, maimed, dead, disemboweled. A shiver crawled its way down her spine, shooting doubt into her mind, holding her hostage until they reached the bottom and she heard Eve exclaim, "Adam!" The spell was broken, no more lies, no more plays of the imagination. Adam was alone and Eve rushed to his side, cooing, mothering him. "Oh, my darling, I was so worried."

Adam's breath was ragged, his voice coarse as he breathed out her name. "Eve," he managed, "You are a vision, my lady." He smiled, baring his teeth, which were stained blood red. "I..." he coughed, "I think I beat him, that monster."

She smoothed down his hair and coddled him, a happy yet worried smile gracing her own lips. "Good, good," she whispered.

It felt like she was watching a private moment, something intimate between lovers, so turned away. Paysha felt ashamed of the longing that grew in her, a longing to have what they had. She wanted to run up the steps and return to Jean-Louis, to feel his reassurance, but she hesitated. Her need for reassurance, her need for absolute proof of trust, was an issue that sat in her gut and slowly ate its way into doubt. Instead, she chose to inspect the rest of the basement, inch by inch. It was there, in the corner, she found what remained of Sophie. The woman's neck was ragged where her head was ripped off, a bloodied stump that now festered with flies and was beginning to smell of rot. Her body was thrown in the corner, a gruesome rag doll with arms and legs bent at unnatural angles, her white lab coat stained crimson, turning to rust as it dried. Paysha knelt down next to her, aware that her feet were in a sticky pool, and reached for the dead woman's hand. As she suspected, Sophie's death came at the hands of Stephen. She could clearly see the white blank rage of the monster he'd become reflected in Sophie's eyes as he tore into the clinic. He'd thrown her down the boiler room stairs after she led him to Adam, her own twisted ideals coming to play as she equated him with the power she desired, unwittingly becoming a pawn in her own right.

There was a clamoring upstairs that caught all of their attention. Paysha glanced at Eve and saw alarm in her eyes. "I'll look," she volunteered as she returned to the staircase. She didn't bother to see if either Adam or Eve approved, only moved in the darkness towards what held the possibility of her own demise. Slowly, she climbed the metal staircase, her hand occasionally brushing against the hand rail, sticky with blood. When she reached the top, Jean-Louis was gone. Paysha called to him, felt for him, listened for him, and found that he'd gone outside, back to the square. "I'm going outside," she called down into the boiler room. There was no use in waiting for their protest - Adam and Eve were too engrossed in each other to hear her.

As she made her way back through the clinic, then stepped outside, again she was hit by the play in opposites between the sterile, stark clinic and the bloodied town. Amid the carnage that was even more apparent as, one by one, the lights came back on, she saw Jean-Louis, hunched over a form that was laid prone on the ground in front of him. His breath came hard and quick as he looked up at her, his eyes piercing and feral for a moment until he realized it was her. "He's dead," he said, his hand still held on the neck of the corpse. "I'm sorry."

Paysha recognized the man, even though she could barely see his face, obliterated as it was by several blows to the face. "Stephen," she gasped. What was left of him looked more human than monster and almost sent a pang through her heart. She held her chest and felt faint for a moment. "He's gone?" she asked.

Jean-Louis stood, his hands covered with blood that got stickier by the second. "No pulse," he explained.

She shook her head and knelt down, grasping Stephen's shoulder and rolling him. His neck was broken and his head lolled like he was a puppet. His eyes were dead, glazed over, lifeless. The Demiurge blood was gone, its effects having run through his system, his strength depleted. "Have you checked the village?" she asked.

"Not yet." Jean-Louis held his hand out to help her up. "I assume the town's been decimated."

Grabbing his hand, she smiled. "Not totally," she replied. "There are a few survivors, mostly children who were small enough and quick enough to escape him."

It was a silent agreement between the two of them that they should check for the few people who avoided Stephen's reign of terror. They picked through the shoppes, the houses, the pub, combing out the stragglers. All but one were innocents, fear filling their eyes upon discovery, some begging for their lives. The one malcontent they found was huddles behind the bar in the pub, clutching an empty revolver, his pockets stuffed with pilfered cash from the pub's till. Paysha could read him like a book. He'd been there before Stephen's visit, waiting for the opportune moment to rob the barkeep. Once he'd had the cash, he shot the barkeep at point-blank between the eyes. Once Jean-Louis pulled the man to standing, Paysha grabbed him by the throat and glared at him. "If Adam needs strength, this is the one to give it to him," she growled. "Let's take him."

They emerged from the pub and walked back to the square, Paysha gripping the thief's throat just enough so he wouldn't escape and loose enough he could still breathe. They'd intended to bring the thief to Adam, but, instead, found Adam limping across the road supported by Eve. In the brighter light, Paysha could see the extent of his injuries. The physical ones, she knew, would heal - the process beginning once he had eaten properly, hence the thief's role in his recovery - but she knew the emotional ones would take time. Adam, she learned, was a delicate soul, prone to bouts of melancholy. Eve was the only one that ever managed to bring him out of it and Paysha shuddered to think what would have happened had anything happened to Eve. "If I'd have known you were bringing dinner, I'd have stayed in," Adam joked as they approached.

That moment, Paysha knew everything was alright. "Sanguine vintage 1971," she replied as she thrust the thief forward and made his knees buckle.

Adam chuckled as Eve helped him kneel down. He leaned forward and clamped his fangs into the man's neck in a voracious attack. Spurts of arterial blood coated his chest until he sealed his lips around the wound. The thief jumped as he was pierced, struggled against being taken, but soon his movements slowed down until they were nothing but a sluggish attempt to bat away the predator that was latched on. As his breathing became labored and his heart beat non-existent, Adam withdrew. He sat back, leaning against Eve's legs, and closed his eyes. "That was gloriously brutal, wasn't it?" he asked as he brought his arm up to wipe the blood from his mouth.

"How are you feeling, Darling?" Eve asked.

"Smashing," Adam answered. He was in the throes of blood delirium, his body humming with the restorative effects of the thief's life force and, for a few minutes, he stayed still, enjoying it.

Paysha reached behind herself and grasped Jean-Louis' hand, which had found its way to the small of her back. She pulled him closer and wrapped his arm around her like a security blanket. Jean-Louis rested his chin on her head and sighed. "Everything will be fine," he whispered.

The sound of Jean-Louis' voice perked Adam's ears up and his eyes snapped open. In a flash, he was on his feet and staring with menace at the interloper. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Eve rested a calming hand on his elbow. "He's a friend," she said gently, reassuring him and making him relax in an instant. "Darling, I'd like you to meet Jean-Louis," she introduced. "He's Marlowe's child."

Though he was initially frightened of Adam, Jean-Louis managed to extend his free hand out. "I've heard so much about you," he gushed. "My father was always impressed with the capacity of your thoughts."

Upon Eve's urging, Adam grasped his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he returned, "Marlowe was a great man and I miss him immensely."

They let go and Jean-Louis bowed his head, deferring to Adam's superiority between them. 

"Are the townspeople gone?" Eve asked once the moment had passed.

Paysha nodded. "He killed almost all of them," she replied. "We found the survivors and they are gone."

Eve took a deep breath. "We can't stay here. Not any longer," she groaned. "The town must be burned. We can't risk anyone's suspicion of our presence. If we burn it, they'll think it was a scourge of some sort, perhaps a suicide pact."

The remainder of the hours of darkness, the troupe spent gathering what they could for torches. They assembled them, lit them and walked building to building, setting fire to the structures until they entire town was nothing but a large bonfire. The heat from the blazes singed their hair and scorched their clothing as they left, running from the inferno and into the night. When, at last, they were safely away, standing on a hill in the distance, they could still see the smoke and the glow from the massive funeral pyre. They'd found the manor house on the way, its own pile of ashes. Paysha assumed Stephen was responsible.

When the pastels of dawn appeared on the horizon, Jean-Louis observed, "We'll need somewhere to sleep."

They all agreed, but the question that remained unasked was, "Where?"

After trudging through the forests, following a stream that was little more than a trickle through the brush and reeds, they found an old barn. It was dilapidated, obviously unused, but had a root cellar that offered not only a shelter from the impending sunlight, but also enough room for all of them and mattresses stuffed with musty alfalfa that lined the floor. It was more comfortable than anything they could ask for, and, before long, the four of them were asleep - Eve and Adam entwined, Paysha curled into Jean-Louis.


	20. Chapter 20

Paysha wasn't sure what caused her to wake, whether it be the birdsong that signified the setting sun, the feeling that she no longer need fear for her life on account of Stephen, or the fact that she was alone. She rolled, expecting to feel the solid chest of Jean-Louis to rest her cheek against, but he wasn't there. With alarm, she sat up and looked around. Adam and Eve were also absent, the only indication they'd been there was the indentation from their bodies entwined fixed in the mattress they'd slept on. Her heart began to race as thoughts of abandonment began to fill her chest with an empty dread. She didn't think they'd leave her, certainly didn't expect it, yet here she was, alone in the barn cellar. 

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to collect herself. It wasn't the first time she'd found herself alone in a dark cellar and she doubted anything could be as life-changing as that first time. Here, at least, she hadn't been transformed into some otherworldly creature. She was strong. She was a survivor. Paysha grasped a shelf on the wall over her head, hoping it wouldn't buckle as she used it to pull herself up. As she stood, she puffed out her chest and clenched her fists. "I can do this," She told herself. With renewed resolve she climbed the ladder to the trap door and opened it just enough to see into the dusty barn. She still felt nothing. No one was there as she pushed it all the way open and climbed out of the pit. 

The last rays of sunset pierced the horizon in a brilliant display of illuminated plumage that made her smile as she left the confines of the dilapidated building. "Adam, Eve, Jean-Louis," she called, noticing that her voice sounded reedy and weak. No doubt it was the result of the smoke from the burning village combined with the strain from the ordeal, but it sounded unusual to her. She wanted that strong voice, the one that could cut through the darkness of night and find the ears of her kind. Instead, she had the forlorn call of heartbreak. The realization crushed her.

As the cadences of her voice echoed into the night, Paysha collapsed to her knees, sending up a puff of dirt in her wake. She crumpled, her breath caught, her heart aching, her eyes filling with sorrow. The tears came as she buried her face in her hands and her wails filled the air. She'd expected Adam and Eve would leave, eventually, but not like this. She thought she still had so much to learn from them. She was a fledgling, not able to survive on her own, yet, her mind told her. Yet, even the feelings of iniquity weren't what made her cries carry through the night. It was the sudden loneliness. They felt like family and left her solitary.

The decision didn't come right away, it approached with tentative feet, tiptoeing through her subconscious as she lay on the ground, curled in the dust and the weeds. Alone was the last thing she wanted in the world, the last thing she expected. Her only choices were to buckle up and go it alone, or face the sunrise and hope it relieved her of the anguish. As much as her heart told her the latter would be for the best, her mind wouldn't let her. There was still so much she wanted to experience in the world, vampire or not.

Not sure if any of her kindred would ever return, Paysha took the chance and bit into her finger, piercing it enough to scrawl a note on the faded wall of the barn in her blood. It read, "Paris." She hoped it was enough for them if and when any of them came calling. 

She had nothing to gather, save her own wits, so began the voyage towards Paris. She knew only that she was to the southeast of the city, that, on the clearest of nights, she could see the glow from the lights of it. There, at least, she figured she would be less alone, though she wasn't sure if there were any more of her kind. Her hopes were that she could find somewhere nice to live peacefully, that she could even befriend some of the people there. Adam would be disappointed, she thought, but he was the least of her regards as she trudged through the forest. She wanted to avoid the main roads, afraid that she'd be seen and, in her own disheveled state of torn and bloodied clothing, be taken and confined as mentally ill.

Paysha walked until the soles of her shoes were worn through and blisters appeared on her feet, dragging herself through the valley and into the hills. Each noise she heard behind her made her startle, but she hoped with each broken twig or swish through the brush that she'd find one of her kindred there, caught up with her, ready to save her. She realized as the daylight loomed on the fringes of the forest that she was beyond redemption, that the only one who could save her was herself. Hunger began to overtake her in the last few miles and she knew why Eve had always said that traveling "Fried" her. It was grueling, this solitary adventure. She didn't recall ever being as weary as she was then, even in her human life. While she didn't find any donors along her path, she did manage to find a rabbit. Resigned to gathering the nourishment she could from the forest, she captured it and drained it. Its life force was sweet, gamey, nowhere near as rancid as the wharf rat. It was the blood of a creature that fed on a steady diet of alfalfa and pilfered garden vegetables. The creature left her hunger somewhat sated, though she felt she needed at least ten more to make a difference. 

Right before dawn broke, she found an unused fox burrow to bury herself in. The creature that dug it had been gone for some time, but the space was large enough for her to curl herself into and cover it with leaves from the brushes around it to shade her from the sun. As she settled into the earth, she sighed. Never had she imagined she would be there, like that, scrounging for food and shelter, unsure of her future in the world. And she vowed to not ever do it again.

Something nuzzled Paysha out of her sleep just as the sunset dipped below the treeline leaving a trail of purple and orange in its wake. She scrunched her eyes while they focused in the darkness and found a small, masked animal pushing against her leg with its nose. "Hello, little guy," she smiled as she reached her hand down and scratched its head. The timid creature jumped and backed away from her and out of the burrow, stopping short of leaving the area as it hid behind a stump. She followed it, scooting out of the hole she was in and sitting up next to the embankment. Holding her hand out, she beckoned, "Come on, I won't hurt you." Hunger roiled through her, again, but she knew the animal was no more than a pup. Nyctereutes procyonoides, Eve would have called it and Paysha could only imagine how fascinated she'd be by it. She knew it by a different name. When she'd moved to France, she'd been educated on the existence of raccoon dogs by her friends at school, though she never thought she'd find one.

The pup squeaked at her and approached with apprehension, sensing, maybe, that she was a predator. She stayed where she was, wriggling her fingers and quietly enticing it to come closer. Slowly, it got closer and closer until she was able to reach out and scoop it up with her free hand. It shrieked and she nearly dropped it, afraid that somewhere behind the baby lurked its parents and she didn't want to cross them, judging by the size of the claws the little one had. Nothing came for it, though, and when she set it back down on the ground, it scrambled up the embankment. She followed it, entertained for the moment, happy for the companionship. When she found the raccoon dog again, it was huddled up and shivering next to its mother on the side of a country road. She'd been hit by a car and was still, cold. "Oh, you poor baby," Paysha exclaimed as she picked up the pup again. This time, he didn't fight her, but snuggled into her bosom. 

She walked back to where she'd left the rabbit's body the night before and hoped its meat was still good. The creature was stiff, but had yet to be assailed by flies. Paysha set the pup next to the rabbit's corpse and watched with delight as he ripped into the flesh. Once he was finished with his meal, his little snout was red with blood. She laughed and wiped it off with the hem of her shirt, then picked the pup back up. "You're alone and I'm alone," she told him. "Let's fix that." The pup responded by licking her cheek. "I think I'll call you Bisou."

Though she still lacked shoes, her blisters from the previous night's walk were healed and she felt ready to resume her journey. Bisou let her carry him in her shirt, his little head poking out of her collar, for a while, but also took his own turns walking, staying close on her heels and nipping at her ankles. They found a river, she hoped it was the Loire, and began to follow it north. Paysha captured some small fish from the waters for her new friend and found more rabbits upon which she could feed. 

With a companion, the journey sped by and, before she knew it, Paysha was on the outskirts of the city. She stood on a hill with Bisou in her arms and admired the lights of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. The sight gave her a feeling of excitement, but also apprehension mixed with melancholy. She wished she had someone besides Bisou to share the moment with. They sat down on the grassy knoll and watched as dawn began to crawl into the skies once again, taking shelter in a nearby abandoned cottage only once the sun's rays began to burn Paysha's skin. For a moment, she contemplated letting it take her, but, when she looked down at the sleeping face of Bisou, she knew she couldn't. It was not her time.


	21. Chapter 21

Paysha gauged herself, listening outside the cottage to the joyous screams of children playing in the field outside, her fear of being discovered before sundown stilling her. Bisou's yips mixed with the laughter as the puppy played with them. He was as happy as they were, but she wasn't scared he'd leave. She knew he was hers, that they were alike - both orphaned and abandoned, both alone and now together. She allowed him his play time. He was a living, breathing creature and she knew to deny him his nature would be cruel.

She listened to the sounds beyond the walls she inhabited, and realized that, for the first time in a while, the thoughts of those outside were fuzzy. She'd lived so much through the senses that were amplified under the influence of Stephen's blood that their diminishing began to make her feel almost human. In fact, she was certain that, were she to go out at sunset, she could pass for human, save the alabaster skin and the craving for sustenance that crawled through her belly and made her eyes glow with feral hunger. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, the feeling that she was light and unencumbered. Though she knew she needed more sleep, she couldn't because she was giddy with relief. The telepathy was more of a burden than she'd realized, even though she'd utilized it, not that she'd had the choice.

Peering through a shaded window at the south end of the house, she could see the forest from which she'd emerged, the knoll upon which she'd looked over the lights of Paris, the field in which the children and Bisou played. It was idyllic and she felt the yearning to stay there, to adopt the forlorn property and make it her own, but she also felt the pull of the city. She knew Paris would be home, that it would provide for her more than a tiny country cottage ever could. As she sat by the window wrapped in a ripped patchwork quilt she'd found moldering in a dilapidated hope chest, she watched the sun setting. It seemed hours passed as the late afternoon sun upon which she'd awoken painted the grasses golden, then dipped beyond the treeline to filter through the branches and cast shadows on the ground of leaves and hobgoblins, and finally spraying the blue tapestry and puffy clouds with an array of golds and purples. 

By the time darkness fell, the children were gone and Bisou had returned to her, curling up in her lap and whimpering for food. "I know, boy," she said as she stroked the top of his fuzzy head, "I'm hungry, too."

She needed to move along, to finish her journey to the city, but she felt she wasn't ready just yet. Instead, she ventured out with Bisou to the forests and foraged for him, managing some small fish from the stream that ran nearby before happening upon an band of vagrants who'd set up camp in a clearing. Her dog growled as they approached her and Paysha could see in their eyes they had bad intentions. "Leave me alone," she warned. 

There were three men. All were dressed in jeans and t-shirts, all ripped and ragged. They looked as hungry as she was, though their appetites ran more of a carnal nature. The tallest of them, a man with a scruffy black bear flecked with bits of silver, held his hand up and his companions fell back. He continued, leering at her as he drew closer. "Qu'avons-nous ici?" he growled. "Viande fraîche?"

His breath smelled like old meat and cigar smoke as he leaned into her and she could smell the sour of sweat, the sweet of piss and the sick of vomit emanating from his clothing. She coughed and wrinkled her nose at the stench, thinking she'd rather have smelled millions of decomposing corpses to the rank from him. "I am far from fresh meat," she said under her breath, realizing they had no clue what she said. "Je vais vous tuer," she seethed, her eyes turning red with blood lust with each inch he advanced upon her. "I will kill you." He was within arm's reach when she said it and, with lightning-quick reflexes, she had him by the collar, twisting it between her fingers like a garrote, tightening its hold around his neck. The man gasped for air, his eyes widening with surprise. As she held him there, she could feel his fear. It emanated off him like the stench he embodied. "I know what you've done," she hissed as visions of the man and his cronies wreaking havoc on innocent Parisians who visited the area filled her mind. They were in the business of raping and robbery, spending their proceeds on liquor and narcotics. "Vous êtes poubelle." She spat at him like the trash he was. 

The other two men were as surprised as their leader and began to back up, only to be cornered against a tree by Bisou, growling and baring his teeth. He knew a threat when he smelled one. It was almost humorous to see the two grown men held at bay by a small raccoon dog pup, but they both had a look of terror in their eyes, not even paying attention as their friend was consumed by Paysha's hunger, drained of his life force until nothing remained but his empty husk, crumpled and stinking on the forest floor.

Paysha turned towards them. "Good boy, Bisou," she smiled, revealing sharp canines, her teeth red with blood stain and ready for more. In a flash, she was at the side of the man closest to her and in another flash had him on the ground, helpless and twitching as she reduced him to nothing more than flesh and bone in dirty rags. 

The last man was so frightened, he pissed himself, and, as she pinioned him against the tree trunk he huddled against, his bowels let loose, too. "I want you to know, I feel no sympathy for trash like you," she whispered. "C'est la fin." She took her time with him, knowing there was no chance of him running from her. His fear enticed her and the smell of it came off his skin like a pheromone, exciting her hunger further. She became more animal, more feral, more predator. Her desire was not sexual, but carnal, and she felt her entire being awash in pleasure at the simple act of licking the vein of his neck before impaling it with her teeth with a grunt. Her focus was not on what was happening in his mind at that moment, but the orgasmic rush that filled her own body as surely as his blood filled her mouth. She stopped only when she felt his heart stop pumping, when the stuttering breath that trembled in his chest ceased. As she backed away from him, he fell to the ground, slumping against the tree trunk, his eyes open and cast Heavenward. 

Bisou barked and nipped at her ankle, bringing her back from her reverie. She knew, from all the teachings she'd learned from Adam and Eve, that she should feel remorse for the trail of death that was before her, hearing Eve's voice in her head saying, "Really? So fucking fifteenth century, my dear." Rather than feeling regret for her actions, she felt proud. She knew she needn't rely on anything other than her own wit and brute strength. It was the first affirmation of her own power and it filled her with righteousness. 

After letting the intoxication of her actions pass, she cleaned up the mess, ripping open their throats like an animal would before dragging the bodies to the stream and weighing them down with rocks, submerging them in the murky, rushing waters, knowing they wouldn't be discovered for some time, if ever. At the end of her ordeal, she was filthy and stinking, covered in the sticky remains of their blood mixed with the filth from them and the forest floor. She cleaned up by bathing in the stream, herself, knowing that the silt from the waters would cling to her, but accepting it was better than what she had.

Rather than returning to the cottage, Paysha decided to head even closer to the city. She was weary as she dragged herself from the stream, not bothering to even wring out her dripping her hair as she picked up Bisou and began trudging through the trees. A dirt road that was little more than a path cut through the forest in the direction she wanted to go and she followed it, her bare feet sending up little clouds of dust in her wake. Though Paris was close, they walked for what felt like hours, until collapsing against a fence with fatigue near dawn.

A woman who heard the yips coming from Bisou found them and, with a little persuasion, enticed Paysha to stand and walk to her house. "I don't have an extra room, but you can sleep in my attic," the woman invited.

Paysha nodded. "Please," she said, her voice weak.

She settled into the tiny attic room with Bisou cuddled into her. The woman had arranged blankets and pillows on the floor for a makeshift bed and, because the sun was coming up, covered the small oval window at the far end with a thick afghan. "It'll be to bright to sleep, otherwise," she explained.

"Thank you," Paysha answered as she laid her head down on the stack of pillows. She drifted off as the woman closed the door and the room became silent, save for the little sighing breaths of the puppy at her side.


	22. Chapter 22

Bisou slept in a chair in the corner, snoring and kicking in some sort of doggy dreamland. Paysha chuckled at the sight. He'd earned his comfort, as had she. In the weeks since their journey, he'd grown, developing muscles where before he was only fluff, his snout lengthening and his eyes sharpening. Despite his growth, he still had the same loyal puppy heart that ran with children in the park next to their flat during the day and chased after small furry creatures during their excursions at night. He was Paysha's magnanimous protector as well, often sensing danger before she could herself.

The effects of the Demiurge transfusion were gone after her second week in the city, diminished so much that their only lingering reminder was the sharp headache she got when there was someone with a like gift near her. Otherwise, she could only feel a general unease emanating from the bad ones that was akin to nausea. These were who she sought out, who she took from without asking, who she acted as judge, jury and executioner. Though she could imagine how Adam and Eve would look at her, how they would chastise her for her decision to clean up the streets of Paris as she was, there was a thrill in it. She relished knowing she was the one behind the headlines as the community embraced the disappearances. Her gift was hers for a reason, she thought. It felt meant to be.

Everything changed the night she noticed a face lurking in the shadows, watching her every move. Paysha thought, at first, that it was another of the dregs whom she'd failed to detect and began stalking the figure. She failed to notice that Bisou made no move, menacing or otherwise, towards the darkness and, when she got to where it had been, there was nothing there. Not even the scent of the thing lingered. The following nights were the same. She would hunt, find a victim, only to feel eyes watching her. Her distraction became the victim's opportunity to flee. 

After a month of playing cat and mouse with the figure, she gave up. There was no use in trying to find someone who didn't want to be found, she reasoned. The truth of the matter was that it unnerved her, She was jittery, afraid of the repercussions if she were caught, afraid of public opinion, human courts, or worse yet, medical science. Her will was weak and spurred on by a growing appetite. She began to feel drained with the simple act of walking the streets, of taking Bisou out to eat, of dragging herself back to bed, though sleep became what she craved. Deep sleep and the crimson fount that fed her life force. She was as fried as she'd been traveling to Paris in the first place.

She pulled herself from her bed, encouraged by the yips of a hungry Bisou after weeks of starvation on her part, determined to feed. A medical clinic was open halfway between her flat and the park - one she'd passed many times on her nights out - and she hoped there would be at least one understanding soul that would agree to help her out, but she didn't hold out hope. There were no stories of what happened to vampires that didn't feed for a long time. Paysha always imagined that they simply laid down and let the sun take them. In all her reading in the great chateau library, she'd never come across it and it was something neither Adam nor Eve ever broached. They probably didn't anticipate that Paysha, their fledgling, their daughter, would face the trials associated with it.

The sun had just set, that she could see by the faint pink glow left on the horizon. The cement was still warm, the grasses smelled of sunlight and heat, the slight breeze that blew through the trees and between the buildings brought with it images of summer, though the season was still well off. It was all the better, she thought, because if she did find herself collapsed, the direct sun was more effective than the sun that filtered through the clouds. She left the flat with Bisou happily on her heels, but knew as soon as her feet hit the pavement of the street it was a bad idea. One sluggish step off the curb and she collapsed, her knees hammering painfully into the street, her hands catching her as tiny pieces of gravel embedded itself into her flesh. She was able to hold herself up, kneeling, for only a moment before the momentum threw her sideways and she toppled to the ground, curling into a fetal position as she felt every ounce of energy drain from her. 

Bisou barked in alarm and, though she knew he was next to her, he sounded miles away. She reached out to touch him, hoping the softness of his head would ground her, would bring her back to reality, but it didn't. Even the nuzzle of his cold, wet nose against her cheek had a minute effect, serving only to make her let out a half sigh, half laugh. He licked her face, bathing her in puppy love, his own attempt at rousing her and she barely had the energy to move away. She sputtered at the invasive puppy tongue, right before everything went black.

This is how I end, Paysha thought before she blanked out. She thought she felt a pair of hands grasp her arms and pull her out of the street, but she was so far gone that it drifted into the cloud of unconsciousness that enveloped her. 

When she woke, she was in a dark room and Bisou was curled up next to her. She felt a soft blanket beneath her palms and followed it up, pulling it off where it covered her. It was a bed she was lying on and, as she began to come back into herself, realized she was in her own home. Taking a deep breath and rubbing her eyes, she tried to recall how she got there, but her mind was a void in the night, a black hole of missing information. The last thing she remembered was falling in the street. As she reached down and felt her knees, the wounds were healed, but the flesh was still tender. She was glad for that benefit of becoming a supernatural being - healing power. While nothing ever repaired itself right away, she'd found her wounds were able to heal once she'd fed. Fed, she thought, I've fed. She licked her teeth and felt the telltale points of her canines, extended and piercing into her tongue. 

Paysha braced herself on the mattress and swung her feet over the side. As she began to push herself to stand, a voice from the shadows said, "I wouldn't try that if I were you." She thought she recognized the voice, the soft cadences of it, the lily of the accent. He, and she was certain the voice came from a man, was someone she'd spoken with at great length before, but, in her haze, she couldn't place it.

"Who's there?" she asked, directing her voice into the shadow. "Come out and show yourself."

For a moment, there was nothing - the shadows didn't move, there was no swish of fabric nor thump of feet on the floor. Though awake, Bisou remained curled up on the bed, unaffected by the stranger's presence. she tried to convince herself she was dreaming, that the voice was some hallucination brought on by head injury or some part of her condition. In a worst-case scenario, she'd gone completely mad and her imagination conjured him up. Reality, however, was far different and Paysha gasped as a tall man in a black hooded cloak emerged from the dark recesses of the room. "You know me, ma chérie," he said, his voice low, nearly a whisper. 

"Jean-Louis?" she replied, her own voice catching in her throat as she said it, full of disbelief. "Is it you?"

He grasped the sides of the hood and pulled it from his head, revealing his blond hair, his handsome face, his enigmatic smile. "Yes."

She held her arms out to receive him, to embrace him, then something in her being, some conflicted form of emotion forced her to close herself off, crossing them in front of her chest. "You left me," she hissed, narrowing her eyes with accusation. "All of you left me."

Shaking his head, his smile dropped. "Believe me," he sighed, "I didn't want to leave you." He advanced on Paysha, prompting Bisou to raise his head and growl. "Smart dog," Jean-Louis nodded, "He can sense when his mistress is in distress."

Tears welled in Paysha's eyes despite her willing them not to and she began to shake. "I was alone," she managed. "I was alone and I had to fight my way here and..." She interrupted herself with a sniffle. Rage simmered just below her surface, though, bubbling to a point where, as she struggled to regain her words, they came pouring out in a volcanic torrent of anger and hurt. "What the hell did you think I was going to do?" she screamed. "I feel betrayed by those who were supposed to love and protect me, those who I proved my own loyalty and love. Did you know that I nearly faced the sun? Were you aware that the only reason I didn't give everything up was because of my only friend." She shot an index finger pointed at Bisou, who licked it. 

After her diatribe, she was shaking even harder, her body filled with angry tremors that caused her teeth to chatter. Bisou's lick garnered her attention just long enough for Jean-Louis to envelop her in his arms, bringing with him a tender warmth that instantly calmed her. "Shhhh," he comforted as her tears began anew, rushing from her eyes and leaving wet blotches on the black cloak. "I'm so sorry. If I'd have known what it would be like for you, what you would do... I never would've agreed to it." His fingers found her hair and stroked it, tangling themselves in her locks. "I'm sorry."

Paysha melted into him, defenseless. "I nearly died," she sobbed. "I felt beaten and abandoned. I wanted to die..."

He caught her under the chin with his finger and tipped it up so he could look in her eyes. "You didn't," he smiled. "You survived." He leaned down and swept his lips across hers, kissing her gently, almost apprehensively.

A rush of emotions completely opposite to the ones that she'd swam in before surged through Paysha. She fought with them, though, despite the stars in her eyes, and squirmed away from him. "I should hate you right now," she huffed. "I should ask you to leave. I should smack you for kissing me." She shot a look over her shoulder that softened as their eyes caught each other. "I should hate you."

"You have every right to," he replied. "In fact, I wouldn't blame you for any of that. What we did to you was shite." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "When Adam told me we needed to leave you, that it was a test to prove your strength, I balked. I told them both you'd been through enough, but they wouldn't hear of it. Even my own trial wasn't as strict. Then again, my father was a man with a caring, even hand that meted justice as a compassionate heart would. Adam is stubborn, harsh, some might even say he's cruel. Eve is the one that tempers that." He approached her again, dropping his arms as she shied away from him. "They promised me you wouldn't be harmed, but I can see they were wrong. We hurt you in the worst way." His eyes studied hers, waiting for a change in her demeanor, hoping to see the tough turn tender. When she kept her steel glare, he dropped his shoulders in defeat and turned towards the door. "I'll not bother you any longer, my lady," he mumbled as he began to leave. "Love, though it be brief, cuts to the quick."

She fought the urge to call him back as he left, felt the tug on her heart as she imagined it ripped from her chest and following him out the door. By the time she managed a tearful, "Jean-Louis, don't go," it was too late. The doorway was empty, as was the street. All that remained was the scent of him, the aura of his presence, wafting away like so much smoke on the breeze that drifted past. Willing herself to walk, she looked out the door, but the streets were empty and sunrise sat like a red harbinger on the horizon.

Paysha retreated to her apartment, locking the door and secluding herself from the world, once again. Her hunger rumbled in her being as she curled into her nest on the bed. She had no idea where the blood Jean-Louis had fed her was from, she almost didn't want to know, but as she laid there, the cloying smell of it clung to her nostrils, the taste on her tongue, enticing her. She followed the scent to the night stand and yanked open the drawer. Inside, Jean-Louis left a vial and a note. She emptied the vial on her tongue, savoring its viscosity, memorizing the flavor, before reading what was written. Once she opened the note, she was taken aback by his handwriting - the scrolling, flowery text written in fountain pen. "My Dearest Paysha, I've procured this supply as well as anything else you might need from Dr. G. Michaud at l'Université Paris-Sorbonne. He runs the medical school and is familiar with our shared condition. He'll give you anything you need. Adieu, Jean-Louis." She finished reading it and clutched the paper to her chest. The note made the pain worse, the fact that he'd thought of nothing but her well-being drove the knife into her heart as surely as any well-rounded fist. She fell asleep for the day, clutching the letter in her hands.

When she woke the next evening, Paysha was well-rested, fed on what drops she could salvage from the vial, and set out, with Bisou to visit the good doctor. She found the university with no troubles, found the medical sciences building with even less of a problem. The campus was mostly deserted, with the exception of couples strolling along its promenade, wrapped in each other. She rushed past these people as quickly as possible, feeling an empty ache in her heart as she did. Bisou stopped her at the entrance to the building to relieve himself and it allowed Paysha to gauge where in the building she should go. There was one lonely window on the third floor that was illuminated. That's got to be it, she thought as she called Bisou to the doorway.

Inside the medical sciences building was even more quiet than outside. It radiated antiquity, its hallowed old halls haunted by the ghosts of its past. Paysha felt a certain rush as she navigated the corridors and staircases, feeling the history with each step until she at least reached the office with the placard on it that read: Dr. G. Michaud. She knocked on the door with only two knuckles and it sent a hollow echo down the hallway. "Enter," a deep voice called from inside.

As she pushed the door open, a whoosh of air that smelled like old books and medicinal ointments rushed out at her. The light was low, emanating from only a small desk lamp. And there, at the desk was an older gentleman, huddled over a paper. "Hello," she began, "I'm Paysha..."

"I know who you are," he grumbled. 

He waved at the door and she turned to close it, but, instead, found Adam and Eve standing behind her and the door closed. "Adam, Eve," she said, her voice meek as she clutched her chest.

They embraced her with a formal cordiality. "Paysha, darling," Eve cooed as Paysha struggled to get away.

"What the hell?" she yelped. "You leave me to die and expect me to welcome you back with open arms?" Her chest was heaving with fierce breath and her heart was pounding. "How dare you?"

"You misunderstand us," Eve started to explain."

Adam interrupted her with a well-placed hand on her arm. "I'll handle this," he said, taking control of the situation. "The thing is, Paysha, until you can live entirely by your own means, you're a fledgling vampire. It's always been that way,even when we were young. The trials a fledgling goes through prove whether they are worthy or whether they must need to be destroyed. Had we not, you'd have been sent to the sun by our peers, and that was the last thing we wanted." He held his hands out, palms up in supplication.

Paysha narrowed her eyes and peered at him with doubt. "I thought you said you hadn't seen any others around?" she seethed.

"We don't see them, but they're always around," Eve smiled. "You were always watched."

"What about Jean-Louis?" Paysha asked, "Where did he go?"

Eve pursed her lips. "He was with us," she answered. "We forced him, restrained him. He had no choice. I'm sure he told you."

"He told me, but I didn't believe him," Paysha groaned. "Now what?" She had a million scenarios that swirled through her mind and made her dizzy. 

Adam approached her and put his hands on both of her shoulders. He looked into her eyes. "I see nothing in you but strength, resiliency, a will to survive and to thrive," he said. "You've made me proud to have you as my progeny. You are no longer a fledgling."

It felt like a baptism, his words flowing through her, rejuvenating her. "Can I go?" she asked with an urgency to seek out and find the highest point upon which she could escape to. "I need to think."

Eve nodded as Adam returned to her side. "Absolutely," she said. "But take this with you." She reached and handed Paysha a silver-toned flask carved with ornate designs. "This will save your life more times than you can imagine. It's from my time."

Paysha was hesitant at first, but she reached out and took the flask, tucking it into her pocket. "Thank you," she said as she moved past them, Bisou at her heels.

She knew where she wanted to go. It was the one place she'd found where the troubles of the world seemed far below, where her own trials an tribulations melted away. She took Bisou home, first, leaving him in the apartment since dogs were not allowed, then made her way to the center of the city. 

The Eiffel Tower stood in all her glory, lights twinkling from her structure that reflected those on the buildings around her. The city of lights lived up to its name. Too impatient to take the elevator, Paysha climbed the stairs, hurrying as fast as her legs would allow. As a human, she'd have been winded. As a vampire, she was like a lightning flash, a burst of powerful wind blowing past tourists and Parisians alike. She reached the observation deck in a whirlwind, stopping only once she was able to look out upon her beloved city. She'd memorized it in her months there and could point out the museums, the opera house, the cemeteries. 

It was on that deck, high above, she found her peace. She understood, in her new world, it was survive or be killed. Adam and Eve had followed the doctrine of their peers so she would survive. She didn't forgive them, but she understood them. If only they'd left an explanation, she thought. 

As Paysha stood looking out on the city, she felt a presence behind her. Instead of turning around, she uttered only, "Jean-Louis."

He moved behind her, swift and sure, wrapping his arms around her. "I couldn't leave you, mon amour," he whispered as he nuzzled her ear. "You must know that."

She turned to face him and looked into the blue of his eyes. "I do," she smiled as she stood on her toes to kiss him. "I do."

~End~


End file.
